Father-Son Opening day!

Monday's has always been the Week’s red-headed step-child. Nobody likes Monday's. This Monday is different, it’s OPENING DAY.

This past Sunday, I went out to Citi field in Queens to check out the New METS Stadium. For the first time in 6 years, I came to terms with not being able to go to Opening Day this year. So, I went the more efficient route and went to an open practice.

No doubt the stadium is nice. I like it. It’s a deep, high fly ball from what Shea ever was and taking the time yesterday to walk around instead rushing to find my seat, made for an interesting day. As I walked around scoping out location of bathrooms and beer taps, I though of my son and how this is going to be his stadium, like Shea was mine and Ebbets was my father’s.

“They say” CITI field is reminiscent of Ebbets field and if I hear that one more time, I might puke in my mouth. Ebbets field 1952 the ticket price was A DOLLAR!!! Just ONE DOLLAR! I remember hearing stories from my dad when he was kid how he and his buddies would sneak into Ebbets field to watch the Dodger’s game. Ahh…the good ol’ days… It was a different time that allowed kids to sneak into games and the affordable price of a ticket allowed for both the working and non working fan the ability to sneak away for a “day at the park”. It’s what made baseball, America’s game. The only thing similar about that time and today is our economy and war. I tried to get an opening day ticket and it would of cost me $800 -$1200 for a Opening Day seat (1 seat, not plural).

Yesterday at Citi field, I sat in the outfield waiting for a ball to come my direction, scouting new talent and mostly making fun of Oliver Perez ½ inning performance the other day. It wasn’t a game, it was just a practice and I had a lot of fun. Sitting in the sun, smile on my face it dawned on me that this season will be different and most likely I won’t make it to many home games. The price of seats is just too expensive as the old raspy voice echoes over the loud speaker, in a tone reminiscent of 1950’s, “Bring Your kid to the Game”. It was perfect timing to my internal thoughts and I nodded in disgust, as I didn’t even start to think about what it could possibly cost to bring my son to a game next year when he is old enough. For the first time, I looked around as a father noticing other father and son’s and how much of a big deal today’s PRACTICE could of been for these kids and how likely this practice was the only “day at the park” they will see all year.

Hearing stories from my dad about Pee Wee Reese, Duke Snider and Roy Campanella hitting 140 of his 242 career home runs at Ebbets and telling me “I was there!” Someday I’ll tell my son about the “The CATCH”, the 2000 National League Championship and how “I was there!” These are the moments in baseball history that generations of Father-Son conversations are built on and it’s no surprise the stories we pass on from one generation to the next has taken us from field seats to “nose bleeds”. Sitting in this new stadium, I promised myself that I will do everything I can to keep my sons memories and his future “I was there” stories alive, from inside the park.

At 1pm today, my 5 month son and I will be watching baseball’s Opening day for the first time together. A place I’ve been before and remember all too well with my dad. Despite this economy, not having a job and baseball tickets prices there is nothing that can break the father-son baseball spirit. We’ll get through this time and someday my son will look back and say “I was there, with my dad”.