Opening Day
Abstract
On a sunny afternoon of the last Saturday in March, it seemed like I had just arrived home after spending half the day in my office when I heard the phone ring. Upon answering I heard my fathers voice, soft and a little indistinct but tinged with a familiar understated eagerness when bearing such messages, "Were missing the Astros opening game," he told me. "Its the bottom of the first and Biggio is on third base," he continued. He had tickets for the game and wondered if I might pick him up so we could go together. "The only problem is that the tickets arent together." I was tired after spending half my Saturday at work, and spending the nice afternoon in the Astrodome did not seem appealing. But the combination of his typically gentle request and my sense that I had not seen him for a while led me to respond with "Sure, Ill leave without changing clothes. Ill pick you up and well get there in time to see most of the game." The barking of my dog, Max, awakened me from my dream. As I began to think about it, my closed eyes suddenly felt