I want to take a quick moment to thank my father, on his birthday. He took me to my first baseball game, a White Sox affair at old Komiskey, when I was too young to remember the outcome.
In the 90s, when he lived on the South Side, my brother, my sister and I would frequently go to games with him, in addition to trips to the Museum of Science & Industry, Six Flags and visits to see family in the 'burbs. Games at Komiskey always ended with a trip to Connie's, where we played "Salt Shakers," a game he invented that involved an elaborate scoring process based on where a slid salt shaker landed on the table, while we waited the 45 minutes for our deep dish pies.
I still vividly remember our last game together, at U.S. Cellular, when the White Sox were playing the Indians. I was under-aged, but I managed to get a beer. He did not like that and he took it away from me. My step-mother, younger step-brother and my baby brother, Frankenstein, were there too. Sox won.
Today, he would have been 61. Thank you for everything, Dad. Especially the baseball. I miss you and will always love you.
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