My annual post in taking a moment to remember the game is much bigger then what we watch during the season.

Opening Day, a day for happiness, a day that signifies that summer is on its way, a day that everyone is in first place, a day that every team still has a chance, a day of sadness for me. As much as I enjoy spending this day with my wife and friends hanging out at the ball park, it’s another opening day without my father. It’s now been over ten years since I lost my dad to cancer and not a day goes by that I don’t think about him, but this day is especially tough for me as we shared the bond of baseball together. As a matter of fact it’s so tough that I had to write this two weeks prior to opening day nine years ago.

See, Dad taught me the game and taught me well, he spent time playing catch with me, hitting grounders, pitching to me, playing backstop, playing strike out, you name it and we did it. He of course took me to my first Tigers’ game back in the early 80’s, which is what really got me hooked on the game. We’d spend many more opening days, Father’s Days, and summer days there together talking about the game. He was a catcher growing up, a position I never liked or truly became accustomed to, so he would share with me what the catcher was doing at that moment in the game. We’d take everything in while having probably some of the best conversations we had ever had, which could be about baseball but didn’t have to be.

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