Some of my greatest memories with my father have revolved around sports. High-fiving eachother after witnessing an Islanders overtime win at the Nassau Coliseum. Sitting on the LIRR on our way to the Giants ticker-tape parade while my dad called me in sick to school; the attendance secretary not buying it for a minute. Nearly getting our heads taken off by a Skip Schumaker foul ball at Camden Yards. There are so many great memories around some of our favorite sports, yet none of them involved going to a Mets game together.
At least that was until earlier this season, when on April 1st, 2013–Opening Day–the two of us finally got out to the ballpark together, in a day I’ll never forget.
I have gone to my fair share of games, but it had always been with friends, or with groups or covering games for MMO. My father and I had always planned and promised each other that we would go to a Mets game together, but something would come up on my end or on his and we just kept putting off going.