Happy 10-year Anniversary to us

This blog continues its path, sharing the inside details of the follow up to the award-winning documentary, "Boys of Summer". For more details, to watch the film or contribute to the sequel, please click here.

Ten years ago, my dad and me began an amazing journey to visit all 30 Major League Baseball parks over the course of a wild, stressful and hellaciously fun two month road trip. We began in Las Vegas, where I lived then and still live now (though the digs have improved considerably). We visited our one and only AAA park at Cashman Field, home of the 51's (who were the Dodgers affiliate then, before they became the Blue Jays and are now the Mets). They still have Cosmo and they're still at Cashman.

Tonight we head to Cashman to mark this event with another game. We'll be hanging out with our friends at Zappos before the game, because my lovely wife is awesome enough to work there. We're also going to be interviewed by the local NBC TV affiliate about our story. I'll post the clip here as soon as it goes up. But for those who can't wait, watch the 10/11 o'clock newscasts. If they like the story enough, they'll tease it out to tomorrow, too.

Annamaria was looking at some of the video from ten years ago and was shocked at how different my dad looks. Truth is, ten years does a number on all of us. I can't suppose wiser, but I can say older with authority. How to measure love? Time, effort, desire, emotion -- have fun with it. I can't define it. I can point toward it and say for sure that I loved that time with my dad, not because it was "all good" -- it wasn't. But we were both all in. We were in tight quarters. We had tight deadlines. We had a definite plan, a very finite budget and means enough to make it happen. We made it happen. I love that. I'm proud of that.

Ten years ago, as we sat in Cashman field, I asked my dad what he thought about baseball. He said, "This is a night for it - perfect night for it. Hot, dry summer night - very comfortable. A beer in my stomach, and a sub sandwich there with it. Not bad. All I need is four aces and a couple hundred dollars on a poker table. But that ain't gonna happen." Just then, the crack of the bat called us all to attention. A home run for the home team.

I look forward to throwing the ball back and forth with my dad a few times tonight. Catch defined much of who we were on that trip. Even when there weren't words, we were still communicating -- sometimes even better.