My grandchildren went to their first baseball game recently.

As is my choice here, I won’t post their pictures here.

I won’t mention their names, because that’s not what matters on the page.

But I will say that look on those babies faces is indelible in my heart.

One grandchild is almost three years old, the other is four and a half.

When asked which team they were going to see, one grandchild said with glee,”We’re going to see the San Francisco Dodgers!!”

My son, his dad, is a massive Dodger fan so he quickly corrected his grandson.

We all laughed.

My son and his wife, as is baseball tradition, made sure those kids enjoyed a ballpark hot dog, but then some malts, snow cones, and French Fries with BBQ sauce and a request”ranch dressing”.

All that junk food, all that sugar, ain’t it great?

Made me sick and joyful at the same time to watch them devour that stuff.

I have experienced a child’s first baseball game several times in my life.

My two kids were so lucky to have a sportscaster daddy because at their first game ever they got to meet Tommy Lasorda and go on the field to meet many Dodger players.

That was about 30 years ago.

My children never forgot that memory, and they never will.

My grandchildren were happy just the watch the game in the beautiful Oracle Park, and had a view of the San Francisco Bay and watch the Giants beat the woeful Colorado Rockies.

At one point, a Giant player named Willy Adames hit a home run, and my grandchildren were thrilled.

The second time Adames came to the plate my grandchild yelled “Daddy, Willy is going to hit another home run!”

And Willy Adames did just that!

My grandchild saw two home runs from a Giant player named Willy.

I saw that too in my time, only it was ANOTHER Giant named Willie.

I thought about the symmetry of that, the full circle of life and love watching baseball, and that moment wasn’t lost on me.

The children experienced the joy and thrill of watching the game and hear the home crowd explode with joy and cheers.

I did too, maybe 65 years apart.

Baseball is my favorite game.

It is an anachronism of course, a silly game of grown men running around in sometimes garish uniforms and ball caps and people making a fuss over all of it.

I love other sports too, but baseball is more intimate and gentle, and unlike other sports, baseball seems slower, and more anticipatory.

My little grandchildren didn’t care about the nuance or the plot of the game, they were content to just stand and cheer and eat the overpriced junk food.

The Giants won easily over the Rockies and my grandchildren had the time of their lives.

They will do it again, hopefully hundreds of times in their lives.

But there’s nothing like the first time.

Simple joy.

There’s nothing else like it in life.

For all the tension in the world, the simple joys are still in front of us.

Allistar Cooke famously wrote this about life’s simple beauty.

“In the best of times, our days are numbered anyway. So it would be a crime against nature for any generation to take the world crisis so solemnly that it put off enjoying those things for which we were designed in the first place: the opportunity to do good work, to enjoy friends, to fall in love, to hit a ball, and to bounce a baby.”

Those words rang true for me and my own son and his wife as they watched those children’s exuberance and wonder.

It was their first baseball game.

Maybe those children will grow up and remember that day, or maybe they won’t.

I know I won’t ever forget.

Baseball is that way.

The game, the stage, the sights,smells, and tastes, won’t let you forget.

I have the pictures I won’t share on this page, but more than that, I have the images forever in my heart.

Those are memories that will never fade.

Thank you, baseball.