For the Love of the Game

The other sports are just sports.
Baseball is a love.
-Bryant Gumbel

I have often talked about my love of baseball. I was horrible at it. If the ball were the size of volleyball I still couldn’t have hit it. All the same I loved it. The smell of the grass, feel of the ball in your hand, the vibration in your hands when you get the perfect bat on ball, and the dirt on your chest when you dive to get that ground ball. There is no greater sound than when a hard throw hits that mitt. For those that love baseball you know what I’m talking about. We have taken the boys to Bee’s games in SLC and Raptors games up north and I love minor league baseball. These guys and most of the time, boys, are trying to make a name for themselves and get to the Show. Deep down most of them know that this will be their pinnacle of success in the sport but they still do it. Why? They love the game. It’s poetic, nostalgic, Americana; its baseball. There is something about the bigs though.

I have been to six MLB games in my life. I’ve been to the old Rangers stadium, Astrodome and Kingdome (all three of those stadiums are either gone or no longer habitable). I was lucky enough in my first MLB game to see Nolan Ryan pitch. It was 91 and father time was finally starting to catch up with him but I saw him pitch 5-2/3 give up six hits and three runs to the A’s that featured Dave Henderson, Ricky Henderson, Mark McGwire, Jose Canseco, and Dave Stewart. I still have the program and game card from that hot, sticky Texas summer night. I proposed to Mandy a year or so ago that when the boys were older I wanted to do a baseball trip to California. Hit as many games as we could in a week. When she said let’s start small first and get a couple in while doing other things, well duh, let’s go.

The boy’s first MLB game was the Padres vs. the Dodgers in San Diego at Petco Park. I’ll never forget the excitement of walking up to my first MLB game but compared to the awe on both of my boys faces as we walked across the street to Petco, well it’s not even close. Let me tell you that is a great place to see a ball game. 

It was a Sunday afternoon game; the salty ocean breeze coming off the bay, smell of popcorn and peanuts was the perfect setting.

I always judge the quality of ballpark food based on its hot dogs and I was disappointed with this one but who cares. They had a large collectable cup and popcorn tub that was refillable for free while at the game. Pause here for a public service announcement.  Just because a popcorn tub has unlimited refills, that doesn’t mean you should keep it full just for the sake of it. I think all four of us were more brine that human by the end of the game due to the constant stream of popcorn and soda. It was a fantastic way to start the baseball portion of the trip. One complaint about the stadium. Mandy went online and it said we could bring one unopened water bottle for each person but it didn’t say how big it could be. Apparently, the difference between 23.6oz and 20oz is a big deal. We had to leave the waters behind, which wouldn’t have been too bad, except for the attitude of the attendant. It didn’t ruin the day but it was annoying.

A couple of years ago, I heard on the radio that Mike Trout was called up from AA ball to AAA and would be in SLC that weekend to play for the Bee’s. I had read a lot about this kid (kid is appropriate. He was only 19 at the time) and told Mandy we have to go see this kid play while he is here because he won’t be here long. That weekend we went to the game and Alex for the first time really started to get baseball. He unleashed a flood of questions that game. From stances and throwing motions, to why there is a big black wall in center field, to why is Trout so special? This was also the first time he really caught on to the minor vs. major league setup was about. After, the game I was told, “Sorry Papa, I know you like the Cubs but I really want to be an Angels fan.” In the back of my mind I was privately happy. Being a Cubs fan is a miserable existence. At least the Angels have a legitimate shot every year. It was awesome seeing him start to become his own person and not what I wanted him to be. All that being said this is about our California baseball experience.

When we first started looking at tickets for these two games it became apparent that MLB wasn’t as cheap as I remember but this was the Angels and both my boys like the Angels so hell let’s spend a little more for great seats.

Yup, we were that close. It was again an awesome experience. Even though it was a noon first pitch and it was hot and humid (OMG IT WAS HUMID) we loved it. It was a little disappointing that they didn’t do b batting practice that day because of the early start but the boys still got an autographed ball Erick Aybar so all was well. The stadium wasn’t as nice as Petco but they didn’t care this was the Angels. This was Trout, Pujols, Hamilton, Kendrick and most of all Weaver.

The past year, since he found out this was his first year of kid pitch, Alex has wanted to pitch. He loves to pitch. We are in the front yard almost every night practicing pitching, not because of me, but because of Alex. He wants to be out there. He loves to pitch and his favorite pitcher is Weaver. Weaver is tall and lanky just like Alex and I think he feels connected because of it. Alex throws over the top because of Weaver. We found out the Monday before our game that Weaver was the probable pitcher. You would have thought it was Christmas, Easter, and Birthday all rolled into one day when Alex found out. He walked on a cloud all morning at the stadium. He was so fun to see Alex that day. For the first three innings Alex would lean forward with every Weaver pitch, relax when it hit the catcher’s mitt and lean forward again when he started his rotation. Alex was the first one on his feet when Weaver was pulled in the seventh. Connor enjoyed it too. He was all about the Gatorades, frozen lemonades and the baseball cards we bought him. The heat did start to wear on all of us as the day went on but who cared. This was Angel baseball and it was Jared Weaver pitching.

The Angels ended up winning the game 6-4 and about the time the game ended we ended up in the shade. Connor was all about Disneyland and the beach but he enjoyed baseball that I am pretty certain he will not to forget his first MLB game. Alex, however I know will never forget his first baseball games. He will never forget he saw his baseball Hero pitch. I will never forget the shear awe in their eyes as we walked up the steps at Petco, or the absolute excitement of seeing Alex when Weaver emerged from the dugout to take the mound. Sports are sports but baseball is love. At any level, any park, any field, any diamond, any front yard where a son asks his dad, “wanna catch?” baseball is love. And after the experience I had last week with my own boys last week, I believe it.

“I see great things in baseball. Its our game, The American game.”

                                                                                                -Walt Whitman