Last Flight

Spring 1969: After my parents divorce the one thing my father and I continued to share was our love of baseball. Several times each season he would pick me up and take me to Dodger Stadium. We would sit in the bleachers eat our Dodger dogs. My dad had taught how to keep score so we always purchased a program and I would sit there and concentrate on every pitch ensuring that each moment of the game was duly noted. Dad would mostly watch the game and sip his beer. Though an alcoholic he kept his drinking under control when we were at the games.

One Saturday he showed up at the house and told me we were going to the ballgame. It dawn on me until we were already on the road but I realized the Dodger's were out of town and I told him so. He just chuckled and said with a smile if the Dodgers aren't at the ravine we will have to find them.

Before long we arrived at Burbank Airport, now I was really confused. Without a word my dad led me to the boarding area for a flight to San Diego. He explained that since the Padres were now part of the National League he figured we should hop down the coast and check out the new stadium. We boarded the plane and for the first time my young eyes took in Los Angeles from the air. I was speechless. I felt like John Glenn as we took to the skies. I pointed out Dodger Stadium and the freeways and ocean and I am sure before long my dad was tired of my running monologue but he never said a word.

Just as I was getting used to the excitement of being in the air we arrived in San Diego. We caught a cab and arrived at the stadium just in time for the national anthem. We had field box seats on the third base side and our section was pretty deserted. Of course the dogs weren't as good as the ones served at Dodger stadium but they never are. I didn't care I was in baseball heaven.

I was so excited by all of the day's activities that I even forgot to keep score. I sat in my seat and savored each and every moment of the game. I even came close to catching a foul ball however about twenty of kids dived for it at the same time and I did not manage to be the one to come up with it. I didn't mind though I was at the ballpark with my dad and all was right with the world.

All to soon the game ended and we were in the taxi on our way back to the airport. Neither of us said much we just sat in comfortable silence. We boarded the plane and I was lost in the city lights spread out below us on the flight home.

Before I knew we were back at the house and my dad was walking me to the door. I thanked him for the great time and gave him a big hug. He gave my head a rub and walked back to the car.

I did not know it then but that would be the last ball game my dad and I would share. Before that summer came to a close he moved out of Southern California. He passed away in 1980 and I never had a chance to say good by.