Making Tiger Woods

When it comes to baseball, Milo has some mad skills. He's textbook perfect when fielding grounders and fly balls. Makes the across the body catches look easy. He bats left for power and right for average. And he's not even 8 years old.

The moment that fueled this passion for America's game - The Minnesota Twins '06 season. He was approaching his 5th birthday and our home town 9 were way back in the pennant race. Like so far back they were pretty much written out of the postseason half way through the regular season. Despite all odds, they made a monumental comeback and won the Central Division that year.

But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves... So it's nearing the end of the regular season. The Twins have come back from like 12.5 games back and are contending for the division title. I'm totally riveted to the drama. Memories of the '87 and '91 World Series flashed in my head.

Milo had no idea any this was going on. All he wanted was my attention. We'd color or do puzzles or play dinosaurs but always within sight of the game. In the middle of said play, there would be some spectacular play and I'd cheer. Uhm, that's a bit of an understatement. Yeah, I cheered the kind of cheer that would make you say you didn't know me.

Anyway, I have this theory that in order to get my attentionhe decided he was going to have to be a professional baseball player. My theory stems from my own experience with my father.

My father's passion for golf is what inspired me to go into advertising. When he wasn't on the course, he was watching it on TV. Watching golf is not like watching baseball. It's more of a quiet sport, so even watching it is more quiet. Dad was in the zone when he was watching golf. The only signs of life came during commercials. He'd laugh at a beer commercial. I'm no psychologist but I'm pretty sure I made a career choice from a desire to make dad laugh.

When I asked Milo what he wanted to be when he grew up, he said not surprisingly, he wanted to be a Minnesota Twin. For his 6th birthday, I got him a glove. A nice, soft Wilson A200. Every night after dinner, weather permitting, he and I would play catch in the backyard til the sun went down. He loves to catch pop flies so I would tell him, "I'll throw sky-high pop flies all night after you catch 10 (insert catch here. ex. cross-over catches)." Obviously, it worked.

I don't know if this adds more validity to my theory, only time will tell, but when Milo and I were playing catch, baby Liam would be inside pounding on the sliding glass door vying for my attention. Not that unusual I suppose, but here's where even Rod Serling would be a little freaked out. Liam's first word was "ball."

do do do do, do do do do, do do do do, do do do do ( <--that's Twilight Zone theme music)