The night after my son's first game, I went to Saturday's game alone, having pre-purchased a single ticket for the sold out contest. I told him I was going alone, and it was easy to see his disappointment. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, I told him. And I'll think of you when I go to the game tonight. My greatest hope, even though my son is just 5 and he had to crane his neck to see sometimes, is that 27 years from now, he will remember his first game the way I still remember the first game I went to, and the way I will always remember his first game.
Baseball is hereditary.
Whether it is the only sport whose fans pass it from generation to generation, I doubt. I don't pretend to know, or care to offend others who may think the same thing of other sports that they hold dear. But I do know that baseball is best appreciated when it is taught by father, learned by son and shared together. E.W. Scripps Publications , All Rights Reserved. Site users are subject to our User Agreement .