An excerpt from my upcoming book…
There may not be a greater tradition between fathers and sons than going to your first baseball game together. Baseball has for years been a comon link, a bond between the generations that to the male species, is unequaled. My father and I began speaking much more frequently in my teens when he began telling me about going to World Series` games in the old Polo Grounds of New York. My dad grew up idolizing Stan Musial of the Cardinals and would wax poetic about how underated “Stan The Man” was as a player (he was right by the way…look up the stats). Well tonight I took my three year old boy to his first big league ball game. It was the Dodgers versus the Astros and I had quite a surprise to lay on him once we got to the stadium. I actualy know one of the Dodgers, have for years, and the Dodger I know is a two time batting champion and rookie of the year by the name of Nomar Garciapparra. I also know Nomar`s parents very well and spoke with them earlier in the week to meet during batting practice, a good two hours before the game to meet Nomar, say hello and maybe, just MAYBE walk on the field. Everything went perfectly. My son, my fiance and I arrived at Chavez Ravine at 5pm. Once we had VIP parked, I called Ramon Garciaparra and told him we were all there and ready to watch his son play ball. Ramon met us on the Loge level of the stadium and handed us passes to wear around our necks to go to the field level. If you ever want your three year old to feel like a big shot, give him a ticket to hold and a pass to wear around his neck. My son clutched the tickets like they were the Hope diamond and constantly checked and rechecked to be sure his pass had not blown off over his head.

While down on the field level, I allowed my son to drink a little soda (a big no no in my house) and he ate his first ever Dodger dog. The Dodgers` batting practice had ended and the Astros were now on the field launching monster shots all over and out of the stadium. My son was more impressed with the sips of soda he was being rationed than anything baseball related.

A few moments passed and from the side of me I heard, “Hey Jay!” It was Nomar, peaking up at us through the fence of the dugout. I havent seen Nomar for about a year and the last time he saw my son he was only one year old (my son, not Nomar, that would have been weird!) I quickly grabbed the boy and headed towards the dugout. Nomar met us there in the whitest, cleanest uniform ever stitched and with a giant smile asked my son. “Do you still have the mit I gave you?” my son said, “yes” and stared in awe at the super hero standing before him. I explained to my boy that Nomar`s job is to play baseball. I told the boy that Nomar was one of the best at his job and maybe Nomar could teach Jackson a few things when he gets older.

My son told Nomar, “Nomar, when I get older…when I grow up…I want to…” I have to interupt here to try and explain the weight of what was about to be said! A little boy, at his first baseball game, about to tell an all star that he wants to be a big leaguer one day is nothing short of EVERY fathers` best case scenario and dream for his child!

My son said, “Nomar, when I get older….when I grow up…I want to drive machines.” THUD!

The boy is indepent that is certain. No first class treatment or VIP parking was going to sway him from his lifelong, three year dream of being a driver of machines.

Nomar giggled and said, “I think that is a great job big man! Good for you!”

My son then asked the former rookie of the year, “Why do you wear a belt?”

The Dodger first baseman replied, “To hold my pants up.”

Jackson seemed to think that was a good answer and offered a quick, “A ha.”

Later in the evening, Jeff kent of the Dodgers hit a line drive home run to left field that cleared the wall by inches. My son didnt see the pitch. he didnt see the ball hit the bat. He most certainly did not see the flight of the tiny ball clearing the fence but he new a party had started. The stadiumm went batshit and he knew that it was his right to go batshit too!

I held him over my head as thirty thousand people screamed and cheered and the loudspeakers played rock music as Jeff kent (my new hero) rounded the bases. I looked up at my boy as I held him to the heavens and saw a look of joy that is not possible on any one over the age of five. His face contourted and his voice grew hoarse from screaming. I am sure…as sure as I am sitting here typing…that if I could show people what I saw, through my eyes at that moment, I would have no enemies.
- Jay