Happy Father's Day, Dad

For those of you who know me or have been reading this blog for a while, you undoubtedly know that today is a bittersweet day for me. I've tried not to let it get to me, but of course it does. I've spent a lot of time thinking about my father today, and celebrating his memory with my mother as best as I can. (In that spirit, I encourage you to read Hoyt's touching tribute to his late father at Donutbuzz.)

A month or so ago, I intended to write a blog about keeping score in baseball after the Detroit News ran a feature on it. (Sorry, can't find the link.) I ended up shelving the idea, probably in favor of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes jokes. However, Billfer over at The Detroit Tiger Weblog wrote the blog that I never had a chance to write before my father passed away, and I'd like to link to it.

Some of my favorite memories of my Dad are going to Tigers games with him. He taught me how to keep score. He instilled my belief that only mustard, not ketchup should go on a ballpark hot dog. He assured me that the crowd wasn't booing Lou Whitaker, they were chanting "Loooooooou!" (I think he did the same thing with Ruppert Jones. "Ruuuuuup!") He bought me my first Tigers cap at Tiger Stadium. And he got me John Wockenfuss's autograph when I was too shy to bring my baseball up to him on Autograph Day.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. I miss you. We never got to have that last catch at the Field of Dreams in Iowa, like we'd talked about. But we'll have it someday.