Sunday, April 15, 2018

Gone Afoul

No one believed me.  No one. But my confidence could not be shaken. 

I told the kids today was the day I would catch a foul ball. 

“You always say that, Dad.”

Well, I do always say that. But this time I meant it. 

It was a quintessential spring day in Utah. Ice cold in the morning — we just about froze to death during Curd’s 8:00 am soccer game — and gorgeous in the afternoon. 

A perfect day for a Utes baseball game with Grandma and Grandpa. 

At first pitch, there were only about 200 people in the 14,000-seat stadium. 

Which meant Curtis, Tate, and I could each sit in our own section, separated by hundreds of seats. 

To increase your chances of snagging a foul ball, it’s best to spread out. 

(To decrease the likelihood of your kids driving you nuts, it’s also a good idea to separate.)

In the second inning, I made good on my promise. 

O ye children of little faith. 

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