Positioned in my favorite section of the Sport's Stadium, I sat next to my two sons as we watched the Canadians trounce the Dukes. Personally, I like AAA ball. It is close enough to the Majors that you get to see some fine athletes, yet far enough away from "the show" that you can get good seats at a reasonable price.

The game started out bad.

We already began eating our hot dogs when the announcer asked us to stand, remove our hats as we honor our countries by singing "O Canada," and the "National Anthem." I juggled my coke, nachos, hot dog, program, cellular phone, stood up and paid my respects. Standing for our National Anthem is a privilege, but O Canada? Oh well, that's sportsmanship.

The game got worse.

The lead off hitter smacked the first pitch of the game, into right field for a stand-up double. By the end of the top of the first, Albuquerque was already behind by five. At one point of the game, it would have taken a touchdown and a two-point conversion to win. Since they don't allow that in Baseball, I knew we were in trouble.

After my boys both went back for their second hot dogs, I caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of my eye. Their attention riveted on the game, both wearing their baseball gloves hoping for a foul ball. Suddenly, I was in Turnpike Stadium sitting next to my Dad. The Texas Rangers were playing the Indians, Gaylord Perry, the Cy Young Award winner, was on the mound that day for Cleveland. Dad leaned over to tell me to watch Perry's movement to his mouth to see if I could catch him loading up the ball to throw a spit ball.

Just then, the crowd roared as the Dukes began to rally, I left my memory to watch the game again. As the organist began to lead the audience in CHARGE, I thought how great it is to be a father, and how great it is to be a son.

It was a great game.