I have a lot of favorite sports seasons. The one tha holds the most space in my heart is baseball season Planning evenings and family vacations around th Dodgers’ clubs being close to home was commo practice in vacation planning for our family.

Some may think that’s a bit extreme, but for me, it was magic. My first professional game was in Colorado Springs. At the time, the Sky Sox were the Triple-A affiliate of the Cleveland Indians.

Piling into the car to caravan out with my grandparents and my cousins created anticipation with each passing mile. Mom said we would be close when we saw the mountains. You can imagine how she may have regretted that statement when we were still three hours from the ballpark and my sister and I began asking if we were there yet.

Walking into the stadium - the biggest one I had been in my life - was a carnival of sensory overload. I learn about frozen lemonades, pretzels and hot dogs that did fit in the bun. For a kid who was only nine years old, t excitement of being at a professional baseball game a the players were mere feet away from the crowd w something that was just beyond my imagination.

We got autographs from players like Paul Konerko, w got his start with the Dodgers organization, saw Mi Piazza on a rehab assignment and got to cheer on number of players who would later become Rookies the Year when they got the call. There’s not a lot of ki who would appreciate that experience back in the 1990s

Because I was there with my family, experiencing things that helped me connect with my dad a grandpa and uncle in a different way. Sitting for ni innings and learning the game in real-time without talking head, not running the risk of getting pelted wi a pillow for walking in front of someone when it was a commercial and enjoying the in-between innin crowd-participation activities was such an experien that I couldn’t wait to get back the next day. It was just the guys and I who enjoyed this time. The ladies the family were just as enamored with the experience.

Long before the time of hand-held devices and scre ed time, it was pure quality time without distraction.

We were together.

As I look back and think of all the things around us that created that magical moment for me, I realize now that the real magic of it all was that it was a time when we were a family. My cousins and I were thick as thieves running around that ballpark - and many others as we got older and continued the tradition of heading west for baseball games a couple of times a year.

We are all grown with families of our own now, and each of us take our families to games as we are able or are involved at the local level with our own children, but those summers when we were growing up and watching baseball together are no longer. They are now distant memories that come rushing back to me each and every April when the ball pops in the glove. It was a time when things were simple and I wish I would have held on to those moments just a bit longer.

As I savor those moments now, I hope and pray I’m able to give my own daughter that kind of magic in her childhood - and lay a foundation of memories that she will take with her long into her adult life. And perhaps, continue the traditions that were created years before her time.