Back in the LTS
I made it back to Gettysburg tonight. Thirteen inches of snow and a ton of guilt couldn't keep me away.
This photo was taken several years ago in the TV broadcast booth at Tiger Stadium. The dorky looking guy in the red is me. On either side of me are my two childhood heroes. Al Kaline, Tiger Hall of Famer, is on the right wearing a tie. My dad is on the left in light blue.
I purchased this package to go to a Tiger game as part of Sparky Anderson's CATCH charity. We watched half of the game from the box seats behind home plate and the other half from the TV booth where Al Kaline and George Kell were broadcasting.
Al Kaline was a hero of mine. He was the type of athlete we all hope to idolize. He did things the right way. He never embarrassed himself or the team or the community. In the weeks leading up to going to the game, I rehearsed what I wanted to say to Mr. Kaline. I wanted to tell him he was my idol. He made me love baseball. He showed me and everyone what the right way to play was.
My dad and I go to the game and my dad asks me what I'm going to say. I told him I didn't know, but I wanted to let Mr. Kaline know what a great influence he was on me. It comes time for us to go up to the booth, and I'm trying to figure out what to say that doesn't make me seem like a total dork. In between innings, the producer comes over and asks if we would like to take a photo with Mr. Kaline. "Of course," we say. Mr. Kaline comes over and I have my big chance. And I freeze like an ice cube. Mr. Kaline congratulates us on winning the package, and all I can muster is "Thanks." My dad smiles and says not a thing. The game ends and we fight the downtown Detroit traffic to head home. And my dad says nothing. It's not until we cross Big Beaver Road when he smiles and says "You sure made Kaline feel important." And doesn't say anything about it again.
I got the photos developed and saw that Al Kaline was signing autographs at a card show downriver of Detroit. To get to the show, I had to drive 2 hours to Detroit, and then through Detroit, and then another 45 minutes. The whole time I'm thinking about not blowing it this time. I stand in line for an hour to get Al Kaline's autograph of the picture of him, my dad and me. Finally, I get to the front of the line and stand there with a beig goofy smile. Mr. Kaline looks at the photos and says "You were in the broadcast booth last season." And all I can muster is "Yeah." I spent the drive back kicking myself and beating myself up.
I gave the photo to my dad as a Christmas present that year. He was surprised I had gotten it autographed. He asked me if I talked to Kaline this time. I told him I hadn't. He smiled, but then I told him it was okay, because while Al Kaline was my hero growing up, he was always my hero. And he stopped smiling, and teared up.
My dad knew I loved him. My dad knew he was my hero. During the last conversation we had,
I told him about my grades from the fall semester. He told me he was so proud of me.
Other than having him back, I can't ask for more than that.
This photo was taken several years ago in the TV broadcast booth at Tiger Stadium. The dorky looking guy in the red is me. On either side of me are my two childhood heroes. Al Kaline, Tiger Hall of Famer, is on the right wearing a tie. My dad is on the left in light blue.
I purchased this package to go to a Tiger game as part of Sparky Anderson's CATCH charity. We watched half of the game from the box seats behind home plate and the other half from the TV booth where Al Kaline and George Kell were broadcasting.
Al Kaline was a hero of mine. He was the type of athlete we all hope to idolize. He did things the right way. He never embarrassed himself or the team or the community. In the weeks leading up to going to the game, I rehearsed what I wanted to say to Mr. Kaline. I wanted to tell him he was my idol. He made me love baseball. He showed me and everyone what the right way to play was.
My dad and I go to the game and my dad asks me what I'm going to say. I told him I didn't know, but I wanted to let Mr. Kaline know what a great influence he was on me. It comes time for us to go up to the booth, and I'm trying to figure out what to say that doesn't make me seem like a total dork. In between innings, the producer comes over and asks if we would like to take a photo with Mr. Kaline. "Of course," we say. Mr. Kaline comes over and I have my big chance. And I freeze like an ice cube. Mr. Kaline congratulates us on winning the package, and all I can muster is "Thanks." My dad smiles and says not a thing. The game ends and we fight the downtown Detroit traffic to head home. And my dad says nothing. It's not until we cross Big Beaver Road when he smiles and says "You sure made Kaline feel important." And doesn't say anything about it again.
I got the photos developed and saw that Al Kaline was signing autographs at a card show downriver of Detroit. To get to the show, I had to drive 2 hours to Detroit, and then through Detroit, and then another 45 minutes. The whole time I'm thinking about not blowing it this time. I stand in line for an hour to get Al Kaline's autograph of the picture of him, my dad and me. Finally, I get to the front of the line and stand there with a beig goofy smile. Mr. Kaline looks at the photos and says "You were in the broadcast booth last season." And all I can muster is "Yeah." I spent the drive back kicking myself and beating myself up.
I gave the photo to my dad as a Christmas present that year. He was surprised I had gotten it autographed. He asked me if I talked to Kaline this time. I told him I hadn't. He smiled, but then I told him it was okay, because while Al Kaline was my hero growing up, he was always my hero. And he stopped smiling, and teared up.
My dad knew I loved him. My dad knew he was my hero. During the last conversation we had,
I told him about my grades from the fall semester. He told me he was so proud of me.
Other than having him back, I can't ask for more than that.
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