Some of you might know I'm a fan of the Angels. Or properly, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. Now, before anyone gets the chance to level charges of being a bandwagon fan, I'm not. I grew up watching the Angels. Those were the games my father took me to as a child. I remember watching Fred Lynn, Bobby Grich, Nolan Ryan, Brian Downing, Rod Carew, even Reggie Jackson when he became an Angel for a few years. He taught me the game and how to keep score from up in the cheap seats, because that was usually the best we could afford. Sometimes my mom and younger brother would come, but they were more interested in eating ballpark food. I was happy with hot dogs and peanuts. I still am.
Like many American men, some of my best memories of my youth are connected with baseball. Playing catch, going to the game, whatever. For me, my father will always be intertwined with baseball. And it's something I always think of on this day.
So, Happy Father's Day and go Angels!
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