The tears started during the 7th inning stretch, and by the 9th, I was praying for extra innings. It wasn’t the one game, it was the culmination of roughly 14 years of ball crashing to the field all at once, like a barreling collision at homeplate. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so much joy and happiness, and sadness at the same time.
Think of these as the “Greatest Hits” of the early trips, starting with our first game at Angels Stadium and ending in Dallas, where my friend Ted finally told me we could afford to stay someplace nicer.
Two thousand, six hundred, and twenty six miles. That’s a lot of time on the road for any man, but it’s even longer when you’re driving it with two girls under 10 years old, and longer still when you’re doing it alone.