By Ellen Bell - AngelsWin.com Columnist
He was nine years old. Even though I’m only 5’3, I could rest my arm on his shoulder. His red hair was trimmed in a neat, military buzz cut and his eager face was covered with freckles. We were on a quest.
It was 2003. The Angels were World Series Champions and we couldn’t wait for another season to start. So we boarded an airplane for Phoenix. Just my boy and me.
We arrived at The Buttes hotel after dark and, as we walked towards our room, we saw a bright light at the end of the hall. We followed it outside and found that we were overlooking Tempe Diablo Stadium, fully lit and ready for the next day’s game.
We stood there together in the darkness, gazing at the glowing baseball field. He turned to me and managed an awestruck whisper.
“This is so cool...”
What began on that first weekend in March continued to be an annual tradition for my son and me. We worked around NJB basketball games, spring sicknesses, and part time job sche...