Better Late Than Never

I'll never be in the running for any kind of "Father of the Year" award. One small piece of evidence is the fact that the thing I am so looking forward to this weekend is something most fathers with grown sons have done many times over.

My 17-year-old son and I will be going on our first-ever extended trip together - just the two of us. By "extended," I mean "more than a long day."

What's more, we will be visiting the places he spent the first three years of his life. If all goes well, we will visit Marshalltown, Iowa (year 1), and Carroll, Iowa (years 2 & 3), and will play plenty of golf during our stays.

Carroll is where he first swung a club on a course, at age two. The beauty of a small-town municipal course is that no one discourages you from bringing a two-year-old, as long as it's during slow hours, of course.

By the time he was three, he had as sweet a swing as a certain child prodigy and eventual philanderer. That's no exaggeration. Today, his 30-or-so-handicap swing is better than my USGA-5.3-index swing. His game only suffers from a lack of playing, and a lack of watching or otherwise following golf with any real amount of interest. You can blame that on his parents' splitting up before he turned six.

If we find time, we will visit the ICU in Des Moines, where he spent the first two months of his life, having been born two months early, and at a size of a three-month premie (2 lbs., 7 oz., to be exact). Most babies born that prematurely show some physical challenges as they grow: some as minor as having to wear thick glasses at an early age, others more advanced. We got remarkably lucky with him; he has shown no physical or developmental signs ever, but for a slightly less-than-average height.

When he was born, it was a crapshoot as to whether he would survive, but I dreamed of the days we would be able to do things like this. I never would have believed that it wouldn't happen until he was 17.

Also exciting is that ever since a couple weekends ago, when we played a round together in Alexandria, Minnesota, he has taken a greater interest in golf, perhaps because he has finally realized that he may have some potential in the sport (yes, sport). It will be interesting to see how much he improves even over the three days we are together, as we will play up to five rounds, weather permitting. That's more golf than he has played in the last two-plus years combined.

But even if we only get one round in, it isn't all about that. It's about the quality time, and going back to the places we spent a lot of it, 14 years, and then some, ago.

Bad game, bad ump, bad fans, great day!

I was at the Twins' 9-3 loss against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim today. I got a nice deal from a friend on two tickets, so I took my 11 year-old daughter to her first game at Target Field.

Despite umpire Jerry Layne blowing a call at home, much like a little league umpire would because the ball beat the runner, the Twins deserved this loss. This happened even though Layne was positioned to see it, as Jason Kubel slid under the tag.

I was more upset at a mother, who decided to take our seats with her daughter and two sons while we went up for some refreshments. There were five of us, including my daughter and me, and the mother simply had one of her kids move down a row when my daughter and I returned, while the rest of our party was in the Town Ball Tavern (for the air conditioning).

This was only the third inning. Then, when a different party returned to the seats to where her one son moved, she just moved her son to a different row and had him take her other son with. When the others in our party came back (the sun went behind the stadium, so we were now shaded), she and her daughter went with her boys to yet another row, several rows down from ours.

I would have been embarrassed if I were the kids, but they didn't seem to have a clue of what ballpark etiquette is. One of them stood up in front of my daughter's view for several pitches while he dug in his pocket for a dollar bill.

I should have said something, but I pitied the woman, with her horrible hygiene, her greasy, unkempt hair, and overall social deficiencies. Mostly, I pitied the children, who have to be raised by this woman.

Late in the game, a man and his three boys came down to sit in our row. That's a little more understandable, as many had left because of the lopsided score. Still, this guy looked like he should have had a clue, and he moved right next to one of our party members, while the other two were away getting more refreshments. He was told the seats were taken, and thus just moved down two seats.

I'm not going to be so kind next time this happens. If the stadium is less than half-full, like PNC Park at Camden Yards when I was there Thursday night (yep, I moved to better seats, because the usher told us to sit anywhere we wanted in that section), I don't have a problem with this. But when it's a sell-out, and you get busted once, move on. It takes a lot of nerve to just move over into other seats you also obviously did not pay for. Or just obtuseness. It's awful parenting, too.

Another reason I didn't say anything this time was because I was with my daughter, and nothing could bug me that much when I'm having quality time like that. I enjoyed the day. She got a nice lunchbox as a promo, we enjoyed some treats and sunshine, and got a few laughs over the odd woman and her odds-against-them-in-life children.

I recommend this to everyone: When someone is doing something that normally ticks you off, it's not too difficult to change your mindset and make it for an entertaining moment, or afternoon at the ballpark, even.