One of my first memories was of being taken to baseball games by my father. He would go to see the local team in Brooklyn sometimes, in the evening after work.
For some reason, he would often take me. I was very young, probably barely two years old since I know we moved from Brooklyn before I was three. I can vaguely remember him putting me up on his shoulder and leaving the game before it ended and walking home. I would always fall asleep during the game. In my later years, I wondered why he took me since I was so young. Perhaps he took me to give my mom a break or maybe because I carried on so when he was leaving. I'll never know but of one thing, I'm sure, it wasn't because I was a big baseball fan.