It really only consists of one photograph, but the story itself is just one of the reasons I love baseball.
Kellie and I arrived at our seats around 11:30 yesterday.
More than an hour and a half before game time, and right when the Yankees were starting batting practice. I’ve got pictures from that, some of which I’m just not going to share, and some of which are just in my memory. Like when Derek Jeter left the field and went down into the dugout and tossed the ball he had to the closest kid he could find….. something he did more than once during the game yesterday.
But there was one thing that Kellie and I watched unfold, as best we could, from the time we arrived until just before the game started.
And it starts with an explanation. You see, Saturday, August 4th, was Roger Clemens’ 45th birthday. He wasn’t pitching, but there were several signs around the stadium passing along birthday wishes.
But this is what we noticed:
A hand made card made by a little kid (the little blond boy), which his father was holding onto.
As soon as this father and son arrived, Dad was doing his best to get that card to the dugout. It didn’t matter whose attention he got it seemed, all that mattered was that he did whatever he could to get his son’s card to Roger Clemens.
Quite honestly, I don’t know if he did or not. The last I saw before the game started, he was down at the first row of seats, at the far left edge of the dugout, and there was one last player signing autographs. But he had this determined look on his face.
It reminded me of baseball games past and fathers and sons sitting together watching Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, or Mantle. And of Saturday afternoons when the world seemed far simpler than it is today.
Maybe it’s just the optimist in me, but I’d like to think that Roger Clemens got that card.
