I was not looking forward to the ball game last night. Yesterday was warm for a while, but turned quickly cold in the late afternoon with a fierce wind and it didn't seem like a good idea to drive for two hours to sit in a stiff breeze. But AJ was excited. His first baseball game of the season.

Before the game, AJ played hard at FUNdamentals, the area of the park that lets kids practice their baseball skills. AJ had brought his mitt, of course. He raced a cardboard cutout of Scott Podzednik the length of a baseline in 5.72 seconds. He tried to throw a ball hard enough at a row of flat umpires to knock one over (this was the only game at which he was unsuccessful). He practiced catching ground balls on a miniature baseball field. And best of all, he got his first shot at a batting cage -- they had two cages set up for kids under eight with softer balls, a slow speed and a lower angle of release. After refueling with a hot dog, we headed to our seats and then the complaining began. The sounds of the (excruciatingly painful) Star Spangled Banner were still echoing in the air when AJ proclaimed his first, "I want to go home." In fairness, it was freezing and windy. But still, we had spent a lot of time getting to U.S. Cellular Field. We were going to watch some baseball.

"Some baseball" is about the best that could be said of it. The Sox were not acquitting themselves well. They hit fly ball after fly ball. At the end of the first inning, Jim Thome came up to bat. "C'mon Thome! Shouted someone next to us. "We need a home run!" We heard the crack of the bat and watched the ball sail through the air. It was coming straight for us! I stared as the ball grew bigger and bigger, like a cartoon ball expanding to fill the screen. Then Mr. Spy jumped up and snatched the air. The next thing I knew, he had it in his hand. He reached across me and put it in AJ's lap. AJ stared at the ball. I'm not sure he knew what had happened at first, not until I showed him the roughed up patch on the ball. "See that? That's where Jim Thome's bat hit the ball." He looked at me to see if I was serious. "Wow!"

The people behind us made a huge fuss about Mr. Spy and asked about his hand. They called their friend to see if we'd been on television, but their friend had just gotten home, so we will never know. Mr. Spy was worried that he'd snatched away the ball from someone else, but the guy behind him reassured them. "The one who plays it deserves it," he said. "Besides, I was kind of hoping I wasn't going to have to catch it."

We only stayed for a couple of more innings. AJ was shivering, even under the blankets we wrapped him up in. Before we left, some kids came in and sat down next to AJ's uncle. They were probably between 10 and 14 and they all had gloves on. "I don't know if we're gonna catch any foul balls way up here," one of them said. "He just did," said AJ's uncle and he told the story while the kids stared open-mouthed at Mr. Spy like he was a celebrity. "Did you really catch the ball, mister?" Mr. Spy nodded, a little embarrassed. "And we're leaving now," said AJ's uncle, "so you've got the lucky row." They looked like they were taking the challenge seriously.

As we walked down the ramp and out of the park, we heard cheering and fireworks. The loudspeakers told us that Jim Thome had just hit a home run, scoring what would be the Sox's only run of the game. "And you've got his ball," I said to AJ. He smiled and patted his dad's pocket, where the ball was resting for safekeeping.

Even though AJ was ready to drop when he got home, he carried the ball everywhere with him. He has already decided to bring it for his next show and tell. "Do you know what are my two favorite possessions?" he asked me this morning. "No. What?" "My glove and the ball."

Saturday, AJ will march in a parade down Main Street in our little town with all the other baseball-crazy kids, the official start to the Little League season. He is excited about the start of his own baseball season. I think we will all remember last night, a night that is destined pass into our family mythology, the night where a father did something lucky and remarkable and gave it to his son, who walks in his own footsteps in the best game in the world.

[I bought AJ and Mr. Spy a present: For those who love baseball and magic and fathers and sons, I highly recommend Matt Tavares Zachary's Ball. And if picture books are not your thing, try Tony Early's Jim the Boy.]

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