Summertime equals Baseball!

Allison captures the beauty of a freshly lined baseball field

Allison and I got to experience an entire weekend of baseball.  The Tigers were in town against the Rockies and this seems to happen every 5-6 years because of interleague play, so it is a rare occasion to witness my favorite team in person.

The Rockies won the first two games, which made me nervous of an impending sweep.  However, the Tigers possess the best pitcher in baseball... Justin Verlander.  He pitched a complete game 4-hitter on Sunday and sent A LOT of Tigers fans home happy after a frustrating first two days at Coors Field.

I think this series has brought me to grips with the fact that Allison is a Rockies fan first.  I respect that.  At least she loves baseball and enjoys going to the ballpark(especially to take in all the sights, sounds and tastes!).  I think we both had our fill of stadium food over the course of three days.  Coors Field is great because you can bring in all the food and drink of yours that you want.  I wish all venues were like that. 

I also got to "technically" celebrate father's day on Sunday.  The funny thing is I got a gift for my baby boy from Allison... although it is definitely a gift for me! (See picture to the left!)

Baseball is something near and dear to me and is a sport and hobby that is passed down from generation to generation in this country.  I look forward to passing this down to my son, even if he can only play it on a limited basis or is only able to be a fan of it.

With that, I will leave you with my favorite definition of baseball from a childhood best friend that I never met.... longtime Detroit Tigers radio announcer, Ernie Harwell, who passed away about a year ago.

"Baseball is the President tossing out the first ball of the season and a scrubby schoolboy playing catch with his dad on a Mississippi farm. A tall, thin old man waving a scorecard from the corner of his dugout. That's baseball. And so is the big, fat guy with a bulbous nose running home one of his (Babe Ruth's) 714 home runs.

There's a man in Mobile who remembers that Honus Wagner hit a triple in Pittsburgh forty-six years ago. That's baseball. So is the scout reporting that a sixteen year old pitcher in Cheyenne is a coming Walter Johnson. Baseball is a spirited race of man against man, reflex against reflex. A game of inches. Every skill is measured. Every heroic, every failing is seen and cheered, or booed. And then becomes a statistic.

In baseball democracy shines its clearest. The only race that matters is the race to the bag. The creed is the rulebook. Color merely something to distinguish one team's uniform from another.

Baseball is a rookie. His experience no bigger than the lump in his throat as he begins fulfillment of his dream. It's a veteran too, a tired old man of thirty-five hoping that those aching muscles can pull him through another sweltering August and September. Nicknames are baseball, names like Zeke and Pie and Kiki and Home Run and Cracker and Dizzy and Dazzy.

Baseball is the cool, clear eyes of Rogers Hornsby. The flashing spikes of Ty Cobb, an over aged pixie named Rabbit Maranville.

Baseball just a game as simple as a ball and bat. Yet, as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. A sport, a business and sometimes almost even a religion.

Why the fairy tale of Willie Mays making a brilliant World's Series catch. And then dashing off to play stick ball in the street with his teenage pals. That's baseball. So is the husky voice of a doomed Lou Gehrig saying., 'I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.'

Baseball is cigar smoke, hot roasted peanuts, The Sporting News, ladies day, 'Down in Front', Take Me Out to the Ball Game, and the Star Spangled Banner.

Baseball is a tongue tied kid from Georgia growing up to be an announcer and praising the Lord for showing him the way to Cooperstown. This is a game for America. Still a game for America, this baseball! Thank you."

GW