May 7

Today was Little League Day at the A's, so we headed off to Oakland so our aspiring Major Leaguers could get a close-up gander at some of their favorite players and catch the afternoon game. So that's what was on the agenda and that's what we did. But thanks to a twist of fate (and y'all know I use that term loosely) it became something else entirely by day's end.

Once upon a time (in the early 2000s), right after we finished college and were thrust into the Real World as full-fledged adults, Adam and I went to a lot of A's games. It helped that we had time on our hands plus a friend who was an employee who occasionally hooked us up with some pretty sweet seats, but honestly, we both shared a love of the game and probably would've sprung for tickets anyway. We followed the team closely, watching on TV when we could and listening via radio when we couldn't (and honestly, sometimes we watched TV on mute while listening to Bill King and Ken Kourach call the games). We got married in August of 2002 when they were in the middle of their historic 20-game win streak, and were at the Coliseum for some pretty incredible moments, including Game 18 of The Streak and Jason Giambi's boo-filled return to Oakland. (That last one was some of the most fun I've ever had, ever. The volume and the intensity and and the way the entire stadium seemed single-mindedly united in the quest to boo the former star A's slugger was little short of euphoric.) Anyway, that's just some background.

Over time, it became harder to go to games, but I have fond memories of sitting in the stands with my hunny, taking in the sun's rays and watching the A's pull out some pretty magical moments on the field. Today, as the crowd thinned, Adam --who had been sitting several seats away next to Abby-- moved to sit next to me. For a few moments, it felt like 15 years ago. And the game continued on.

Entering the bottom of the 9th, the A's trailed Detroit by two runs. And, just like they used to do, they pulled out a win with some last-minute heroics. We jumped and cheered and whooped and hollered. And Brady danced (like I'm sure Logan would have if he were here) and Isaac shouted and jumped up and down. Even Abby, who complained about going to the game, was into it.

My heart felt so full. I know: it's just a baseball game. They're literally played (almost) every single day from April through September. But Adam and I have roots in baseball, and I needed to remember those roots. So for the ability to introduce the next generation to the thrill of the game and the blessing of remembering what once was (and still is), I'm thankful.