(Photo Credit: AP/The Fitchburg Sentinel & Enterprise) The fateful weekend finally arrived. I had known for a couple of months that my parents were coming down for a visit, and I also knew that my last weekend as assistant coach for my son's T-ball team was also happening as well. And I knew that my dad had managed to secure seats to see the team that he (and I, for that matter) grew up following: the Boston Red Sox. It was fated to be a weekend of wall-to-wall baseball. And a very important one, too: my six year old son's first-ever professional baseball game. His first day out at the ballpark with the boys. His first hotdog. Peanuts and crackerjacks. Seventh inning stretch. It's a moment you anticipate, but it's also a moment of nervousness as well. Will the weather cooperate? Will your son's big moment with his father and grandfather be a rain-delayed mess? Will it be a sixteen-pitcher snoozefest? Will he - heaven Forbid - start ra...
Independent writing about Lehigh, the Patriot League, FCS football and whatever I damn well please since 2003