Growing up in Kansas City, my favorite activity in the summer was to go to Royals’ games with my father. There is no other experience in the world like going to the ball park with your pops.
The sights, the sounds, the smells, the food. A hot dog at the ball park tastes better than the world’s finest filet mignon. The crack of a line drive is unforgettable.
Baseball is the the definition of summer.
We would always go to at least three games: Memorial Day for my birthday, Fourth of July for the fireworks, and my personal favorite Blues Springs’ Day.
Blue Springs Day was extra special. On this day, I would put on my softball uniform cleats and all. And along with hundreds of other future hall of famers, I would parade around the warning track before the game. If was lucky enough, George Brett might even wave hello. I felt so cool. I was on top of the world.
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