In the course of six days, Faith has "enjoyed" a high school football game and a minor league baseball game (only the best for my little girl). If you haven't heard me say this yet, you haven't been within 100 yards of me: I'm lucky to have a great little girl. I've always considered myself to be lucky for a multitude of reasons; but the fact that I can impose my love of sporting events (no matter the level) onto my unsuspecting nine-week-old child, without even a complaint, is completely gratifying.
Faith even got to see her dad right after he acted like a 10-year-old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert (I know the name because I'm a 9th grade teacher). No, the Disney concocted boy band wasn't at the game. But my all-time baseball idol (the now Manager of the I-Cubs) was signing autographs before the ballgame. I got there early in hopes of snagging an autograph. When I was in line, the first 40 minutes went slow, and I thought all hope was lost. Then Ryne Sandberg came out and started signing. When I finally made it to him, I was shaking. For what felt like a solid ten minutes, I managed to muck up what I was saying three times, hold the jersey sideways (to which he said, "unless you want a crooked autograph, I'd move that"), and drop my gold marker/pen onto his pants and onto the field dirt. At that point (again, picture tween at a Miley Cyrus concert minus the sobbing) I said, "Don't worry about the pen, I'm good." God, I'm a dork. He grabbed the pen and said something along the lines of "Enjoy the game," and I went to my seat.
Anyway, the point of the post is that I'm gradually introducing my daughter to my fan-dom of all that is sport. Maybe someday, she'll read this and realize that yes, in fact, her dad was a dork way before she was able to recognize it. And to shove that nail just a little more in, here is a quick (:30) video of Faith rocking out.