I am still trying to recover from the last argument when she stated that her entire closet consisted of shirts that were either white, black, or had a Diamondbacks logo. How was I supposed to know that the incorrect thing to say was, “well we really need to get you some purple shirts since white and black really aren’t the team colors”? And to think I was excited that she wanted more clothes with the team logo. What better surprise could I give her than a new shirt for the play-offs? As I got to the team shop, I was met by many other caring husbands that had to be doing the same thing as none of them had wives with them either. Oddly enough, I do not remember that many women at the ballpark that required XXL shirts. It didn’t take long to find a shirt that would fit Trina and since I was already there, I am sure she wanted to get me one too. I may as well save her the trip. Just so everyone doesn’t think I am a complete jerk, I did ask the salesperson if these were indeed women’s shirts. After all, I would hate to buy her a man’s article of clothing. I was assured that these were not gender specific so I figured I was safe. With my purchases under my arm, I headed to the Hallmark store to buy a gift bag before going home. I have to tell you, Trina was very surprised. It must have really touched her. As soon as she saw the shirt with the Diamondbacks logo emblazoned on it she immediately burst into tears and ran to our bedroom. It felt good to make her so happy.

Go shopping? Is she insane? How could she even think about going shopping when we might clinch a play-off berth or heaven forbid, the Diamondbacks lose and Giants win on a Barry Bonds home run thereby cutting our lead to one game and having Barry break Mark McGwire’s record. Well, I quickly lost that battle and was dragged like a prisoner to the electric chair to a fabric store to look for thread. Oh, the humanity of it all. Would it never end? After only a few moments of torture as I had to held decide what color of fleece would look best against our children’s bedspread, I knew I had to get out. I made some excuse about looking at zippers and rushed outside to see what the score was and how things were progressing. The Diamondbacks were winning and the Giants were losing. Now I had to sneak back into the store without getting caught. “Why yes, that is the perfect shade of thread to go with that fabric. Perhaps I should go and look at pillow forms.” Soon I was again back out to the car listening to the game. Diamondbacks still ahead and Bonds hits his 71st home run. No time to waste, I had to get back into the store. Again I feigned interest in this pattern or that before excusing myself one more time to rush back to the car. There, the Diamondbacks finished their game beating Milwaukee 5-0 making their magic number 1. In the mean time, the Giants lose their game to the Dodgers even though Barry Bonds now has 72 home runs. The Diamondbacks are in the play-offs! With that news, I began hooting and hollering and honking the horn. Before I know it, Trina is standing outside the window to the car. Slowly, I rolled down the window and in my humblest voice I say, “Is there a problem officer?”

The Arizona Diamondbacks are ahead of the San Francisco Giants by 2 games with 4 games remaining. If the Diamondbacks could possibly win this game and the Giants lose tonight, they would clinch a play-off spot. It doesn’t get much better than this. My wife Trina and my son Dakota went to the game with me today. We arrived at the game early to watch the players prepare for the game. We walked around the concourse taking one last look around the ballpark knowing that this would be the last regular season game we would be attending this year. Remembering all of the experiences and emotions that our family shared with the Diamondbacks throughout this season. It was a time to reflect on the passing of another year but also to find joy in the fact that I was passing baseball onto my son. Baseball is acting as a link between generations and I am instilling a love and a respect for the game with my children. When the final out was recorded in my scorebook, I quietly closed it wondering if it would be the last time this season. Regardless, I was at peace as I looked out at the field and saw the grounds crew begin their daily task of mowing and preparing for what they hoped would be another game. It doesn’t get much better than this.

The ball is now completely covered and she has a story for every signature. She has everyone’s name on it. Well everyone but one. For 80 home games she has attempted to obtain Reggie Sanders autograph but has been unsuccessful. She had some close calls but he always had to go just before she could get his signature. It looked as if her quest would go unfulfilled and she had resigned herself to the fact that it was just not meant to be. But tonight, during the last home game Tiffany would be attending this regular season, she sat watching the game unfold. Soon, there was a member of the Diamondbacks staff standing in the aisle next to our seats asking if I was Jeff Summers and did I have some identification. Between pitches and keeping score, I dug my driver’s license out of my pocket and handed it to the woman. After verifying my identity, she handed me a Kleenex and walked off. Confused, I handed the Kleenex to Tiffany and went back to keeping score. Just then Tiffany screamed and reached over and hugged me. I stopped what I was doing and stared at her wondering what had gotten into her. In her hand was an autographed baseball from Reggie Sanders. It was a gift from an anonymous benefactor. A gift that is greatly appreciated and one that can never be repaid. At that moment, I was the best father in the world to my daughter and I wouldn’t trade that feeling for a World Series ring.

At the ballpark, I stopped at the security checkpoint so that the guards could make sure that my water would not explode or the peanuts I was carrying could not be used as a weapon. I then made my way to the gates and handed the usher my tickets. It was at that moment that I actually looked at the tickets. On the bottom was the date, September 11, 2001. This was the game that would have been held on that fateful night three weeks ago. We made our way to our seats and then rose as the color guard brought the flag out onto the field. The players from each dugout were now standing on the field with their heads lowered and their hats in their hands. Earlier this season, most of the players were in the clubhouse during the National Anthem. Now, everyone was standing at attention gazing at the flag singing this song. As the game went on, the Seventh Inning Stretch arrived and everyone once again rose to their feet. On the field, players and umpires alike stopped what they were doing and removed their hats to sing God Bless America along with the fans. Warm ups and playing catch ceased for a few minutes as everyone paid tribute to the country. Baseball and our perception of the game have been forever changed due to the events of one September morning.