It was almost two years ago that my father turned 70-years old.
In celebration of Father’s Day 2008 and of reaching that lofty number, I took him up to New York to see the final game ever played between the Yankees and the Boston Red Sox in ‘The House that Ruth Built’. Assuming the Babe is in Heaven, our seats were slightly closer to him than to the current crop of Bronx Bombers & BoSox, but no matter. My dad got to see one last game in the old palace while I finally saw my first. Plus, we got to hang out together the night before at ESPN Zone in Times Square, talk about sports and a bit about life since mine had just taken a dramatic turn – 48 hours prior, I left corporate America.
NOT the view from our seats at Old Yankee Stadium
The trip didn’t end in the Bronx. The surprise part of his 70th birthday gift was a drive out to JFK and a plane ride to O’Hare. There, we spent a couple of nights in downtown Chicago and saw our Philadelphia Phillies battle the Cubbies in a classic day game at Wrigley Field. It was the 1st time my father had stepped foot inside the famed North side baseball temple. Again, our seats were up high so gloves from Homerun Monkey wouldn’t have helped our odds of catching a fly ball, but again it didn’t matter one bit. We both loved every pitch of that Phillies loss. We both, I think, also loved every minute of the time we spent traveling, chatting, eating and watching the glorious game of ball – together, Father & Son.
High in the sky @ Wrigley Field
Thinking about this awesome summertime journey has me itching to duplicate it. Maybe not Chicago again. St. Louis would be fantastic. It’s a city he’s never been to and a team he has long respected thanks to Stan “The Man” Musial, Ozzie Smith, and, more recently, Albert Pujols.
I don’t know how many summers, how many years, we’ve got left together and even though he’s been to so many places and experienced so much already, I want so desperately to fill in the few remaining gaps; to play a round at Pebble Peach and Pinehurst #2, walk Augusta National during the Masters, rail across Canada, and to see more of our Phillies in far away cities.
I haven’t once in the past 2 years regretted leaving the professional workforce, but it’s in this precise moment that I wish I still had a real job. Okay, it’s the salary I pine for! because I’d be pretty flush with cash and wouldn’t hesitate to drop a lot of it on another weekend away with my dad.
In lieu of all of that, Happy Father’s Day, Dad. You’ve given me (as well as your wife/my mom, my brothers and our families!) so much over the past 34+ years. I know that 6 hours of baseball in Illinois and New York two years ago cannot be considered payment in full, so let’s call it a down payment with more to come. I love you, Dad.
One Comment