Game On

Special guest editor: Ryan

Lauren Grace and I went on our first daddy-daughter date last Friday. We took the train to Coors Field to watch Barry Bonds and the Giants take on the Rockies.

I have come to the conclusion that I am a closet train lover. Every Sunday I wake the girls up early so I have an excuse to turn on Thomas and Friends. I have daydreams of hopping onto a freight train and riding it into the sunset. And I love taking the light rail downtown.

I don't think my girls love trains like I do. When Julia and I saw the Nuggets a few months back we took the light rail. She didn't go crazy when we boarded the train (like I did). Same with Lauren. It was as if she was saying, "Yea, this is a train. Wow. Can you sense my excitement. Yawn. Sigh."

But she had a good time. Everyone on the train thought she was so cute, which made me a little mad because no one said anything about me and my cool Rockies hat and t-shirt.

We arrived at the field at 8. The game started at 7:05, but no big deal, baseball games are slow, right? Well, it was already the 6th inning! What? "Come on Lauren, we have to get in!" I told her as she finished paying for the tickets. We ran up the Rocky-esque staircase and onto the field's concourse level. I ran because I didn't want to miss a Barry Bonds home run, which is the real reason I wanted to go to the game. I wanted Lauren to be able to tell her future husband that her daddy took her to see Barry Bonds the year he broke the home run record. I also want her to be able to say that her daddy has seen a psychologist about his train fetish, and that now he's a normal, functioning member of society again.

We did get there just in time to see a home run, but it was hit by Todd Helton. It was great.

Lauren, being the cheap kid she is, bought us tickets in the nosebleed section. Before we began our ascent I asked one of the ushers if we could just sit in the lower level. I saw some open seats and figured since it was the 6th inning it wouldn't be a big deal. I was told "no." I am not ashamed to admit that I cried right then and there. We jumped onto the escalator and away we went, to sit with our people: the poor folks. No offense poor people, but you and I both know that we don't get the best seats at sporting events.

Before we left the house Chanel told me to bring some baby meat sticks for Lauren. You know, the Gerber meat sticks that come in a little glass jar. The kind that are impossible to get out of the jar without mincing every last stick with your fingers as you try to yank out one of the tasty treats. I get so frustrated every time I try to eat...I mean, I try to help Lauren eat the meatsicles because I CAN'T GET THEM OUT OF THE DANG JAR!!! That night was no exception. I tried to get her to eat the meat stick salsa, which is what it looked like by the time I was done with it. At first she refused, but then she decided to eat it because she was extremely hungry.

We lasted until the seventh inning stretch. Yes, that's approximately 1 inning. And me being alone with a 17-month-old, I thought that was an amazing accomplishment. We went back to the light rail platform to wait for a train. A man came by after a few minutes with a little boy in a stroller. The boy, and I kid you not, was wearing a catcher's mask. That's weird. Anyway, Lauren was walking near the tracks when the guardian of mask boy stopped her from falling. Or at least that's what he thought he was doing. She was fine. As if I'm going to let my little angel fall, right? So I walked up and said, "I got her." Boom. Told him. And then about a minute later Lauren fell. And cried. I wondered how much that mask was and where it was purchased.

Lauren cried for a good portion of the train ride back. We were packed like meat sticks in a Gerber jar, so I think she was uncomfortable. Once were were able to sit down she calmed down.

We had a wonderful time. I love my girls and I am so thankful that they are young enough to be brainwashed into thinking that going to a baseball game on a train with their dad is super cool.

I hope they remember our dates with fondness, and not anger at what could have been.