I promise this blog will not turn into an endless parade of family photos.
When you go on a date with your youngest daughter to see...wait for it...Pedro Martinez pitch at Coors Field, you've gotta write about it. Last year I took my oldest to the park for a Mets game while my huckylicious wife took the youngest out for a night on the town. This year we reversed it, and the oldest spent a Saturday night downtown with her Mom, while our youngest got to go to the game with me.
A dull-ish picture of Pedro warming up before the game. He got rocked (4.1 IP, 9 H, 6 ER, 1 BB , 5 K), and the Mets lost BIG, 7-1, but we didn't care. He's still Pedro, there's still cotton candy and hot dogs to eat, beer to drink, baseball to watch. The older I get the less the score matters to me. I'm less a fan of any particular team, more of a fan of the game itself. Sue me.
Besides, the whole family (plus Grandpa!) went the next day, and the Mets won, 3-1.
Here's my oldest at the game on Sunday. Check out those missing front teeth! Her birthday is Saturday. She'll be seven. And riding a sugar-and-presents fueled high all weekend long, until the inevitable crash-and-burn Sunday night. God help us all.