World Series: We're Headed to NYC
When I was a little boy of 11, my Old Man took me to a 1977 World Series game. It remains today one the greatest memories of my childhood.
the evening that my son was born, October 21 1999, he and I sat on a rocker and watched a World Series game together. He was not but 10 hours old. I explained to him Derek Jeter and Paul O'Neill and promised that one day we would be Yankee fans together, forever. Strangely, he didn't even peep the few innings that I held him. I'm convinced today that he was listening to the Game.
When I went through the cancer thing a few years back, I did a bit of soul searching and made a bucket list of sorts - a list of things that I needed to do before I died.
One of the things on my list was to cultivate my son into being a Yankees fan -- and take him to the World Series, similiar to what my father did for me more than 30 years ago. I accomplished the first part three years ago; as you probably know from these pages, my son is a raving Yankees fan. So mission accomplished there. And now the Yankees are going to the World Series.
And guess what - so are me and my Little Boy. And to be honest, I am not sure who's more excited. Probably him, but only by a hair.
It's costing an arm and a leg and it's going to turn me inside out from a travel perspective but you know, you only live once. And money is fleeting while memories are forever. So screw it -- we're going to the World Series. We'll be in NYC for less than 24 hours and it will probably take a few days to recover and of course there's no guarantee that the Yankees will win, but regardless, there's nowhere else my Little Boy and I would rather be.
Let's Go Yankees.
