I’m a 54 year old man. I haven’t caught a MLB regular season baseball since 1979. It was a major league foul ball fly ball off Mike Schmidt. Even Harry Kalas mentioned me on the air. It was “Nice catch kid!”

I grabbed it. Sweet! And I wore the laces indented into my hand for a week as evidence. Lucky kid.

There is a botched batting practice fly ball that I refused to drop $40 in a food tray at Camden Yards to catch. My daughter won’t forget it. She’s still mad. Nuff said. I’m a Dad now. I pay for things. Money has relevance for college tuition. But, She’s got a gripe. She’s my daughter. I guess we’re headed to The jewelry store one day. A baseball necklace(?) or maybe…. Cooperstown!?! what do you want? I’m a sportswriter.

But this time is different. I’m older. Wiser. I know the game better. And that means Section 107, Row 9… And I bought the tickets for Opening Day about a month and a half ago. I had a feeling. God whispered in my ear. He said,”This time drop the food.” My response is Absolutely! Thank you Lord. My tix are going for $350 a seat right now. I paid flat rate. Maybe I should scalp them? She’d kill me! 😂

Now if the Good Lord got me to buy those Tix, you know something special is going to happen. So this old fart is taking his glove to the game (can’t see anymore and need every advantage that I can get) and of course…. I brought the bail money. Never know about an outfield fight at the Vet … I mean the Bank!

There may be fresh snow on the ground this morning, but today, I can smell the thrill of the grass. It’s nice to feel 11 again for a moment. Thanks Bryce.

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