Its All In The Game

I had the extreme pleasure of attending a Detroit Tiger baseball game with Uncle Tim and Alice. The day was perfect! Detroit at its most wonderful.

Terry and I were invited along to celebrate Aunt Alice's birthday and "Holy Mama" I basked in every single moment.
My Dear Dad used to take us girls  to the Tiger games when we were young. He would be so excited to take us to the old stadium. He would anxiously brief us on the stats of every player on both teams.(Dear Ole Pa was a bit obsessive in that way).
After all, he was the lone male in a house full of chicks, he had to impart his sporty wisdom on one of us.
We would each get our score card with a little pencil to keep track of RBI's and junk like that.
I truly remember how much I wolfed down the food and how I chose my fave players based on how cute they were in their pictures.

In our household with two television screens, dad would relegate himself to his car am radio to catch the latest games. How guilty should my sisters and I feel? Quite.
Truth be told, my dad probably sealed himself into a Chevy version of a "Cone of Silence" to escape with Ernie Harwell and the sound of the crack of the bat.

My mom still obsessively follows the team, keeping us abreast of all of the major league activities.
I admit that I haven't revealed that I go to the game to eat the glorious hot dogs, drink the cold beer, and watch for the cutest players as they appear on the Trinitron.
 
The Tigers are doing great, by the way, so for us all is well with the world.
As I entered the beautiful  Comerica park I searched for the score cards and little pencils to keep score  a little hand in for Dad. I guess they don't do that anymore.

Ernie Harwell, the voice of baseball