Happy Father's Day.

Aren't we cute? (The correct answer is adorable.)

If asked, my mother would probably say that I got stubbornness from my dad. My sister would probably claim that we're both know-it-alls and that we can both be a bit bossy. And my brother would point out that we have the same slightly-corny sense of humor. Me? I would bypass all the good stuff--intellectual curiosity and a desire to know how the world works (which leads me to knowing-it-all and because I know-it-all, I should be able to tell you what to do), stick-to-it-ive-ness (not stubbornness), and an ability to see the humor in most things (because damn it, I'm funny)--and say that the most important thing I got from my dad was baseball.

I love this game because he loves this game. I love this team because he loves this team. We've spent more hours than was probably good or necessary talking about and bonding over this game. I've learned a lot about my father as a person and about life--loyalty, hope, a sort of wary optimism, heartbreak (and picking yourself up after it), and ultimately the joy of success after sticking with something even when it seemed like a hopeless cause--through this game and the twenty-five guys who played out the drama every season. This game and those twenty-five strangers have taught me about myself, about what I like (willingness to sacrifice yourself for the good of the team) and what I can't stand (lack of good effort). I'm sure I would have learned these things about myself at some point along the way but baseball served them up on a silver platter. So, thanks Dad for baseball.

And if you're able to, give your old man a hug today. A good father is a terrible thing to waste.

I included this one because I wanted to point out that even though my hair is loose and I'm wearing jeans, I ran pretty well when I was six-ish.