By: JJ Lanier

TheSouthernSportsEdition.com news services

I’ve been fortunate over my lifetime to see a number of collegiate and professional games. Out of all the ones I’ve seen- including tickets 13 rows up at the ‘94 Orange Bowl where FSU defeated Nebraska to become first time champions- there are two that stand out.

The first one was a routine summer baseball game back in 1990 between the Atlanta Braves and San Francisco Giants. I was a Giants fan because the Braves were horrible and Kevin Mitchell had hit 49 home runs during the previous season.

So, for my 10th birthday my family made the 4-hour trek from Asheville to Atlanta and my Dad and I went to the game. I can remember almost every detail of that weekend because it was my first professional game.

I remember the anticipation I had on the ride down and being nervous that there wouldn’t be any tickets available. Not only did we get tickets, but they were $3 for the upper deck.

I remember the two players I desperately wanted to see, Kevin Mitchell and Will Clark; both took the game off. Any disappointment I had was quickly erased after a Robby Thompson home run in the 2nd inning put the Giants up for good. San Francisco went on to win 2-0.

I even remember my Dad driving back to the hotel and going the wrong way down a one-way street after the game. And no, he wasn’t drinking; we were just so caught up in talking about my first experience at a professional baseball game, we kind of lost track of where we were.

I’ve been to a few baseball games since, but I honestly could not tell you anything about them outside of who the home team was.

The second game took place on New Year’s Eve of 2014 when my daughter- roughly the same age I was during the Atlanta trip- and I went to Cameron Indoor Stadium to see Duke play Wofford.

Much like the Braves/Giants game, there wasn’t really anything on the line, but she was as excited as I had been 28 years ago. I imagine I felt like my Dad did all those years ago, too.

We talked about the game for the whole 3-hour ride back to our house and even though I didn’t go the wrong way on a one-way street, I did get a little turned around in a McDonald’s parking lot. (I promise these two incidents are not indicative of my family’s sense of direction.)

Normally at this point in the story is where you get the big emotional reveal, but that’s not the case.

My Dad is a 63-year-old triathlete that is better shape now than I’ve ever been at any point in my life. And while my daughter is 13 and has this growth at the end of her arm that resembles an iPhone, she still enjoys hanging out with her old man.