FanPost

Station to Station: The Generations Of Left Field

Each and every game is unto itself it's own journey. I always leave with something that enriches my life in some way.

Monday's Game was revelry and laughter and yesterday it was an "Aha" moment.

In years of attending A's games I have seen some familiar faces for decades and others for a few years. One of the most A-Mazing things I have seen is how the passion that parents have had for the A's has been passed down to their children.

My "Aha" moment started in the parking lot when my son was hanging with his friends Bergen and Troy. Bergen was explaining to Forrest, my son, how the LF Bleachers had become his home away from home and that he always wanted to be in his seat instead of wandering around as Forrest and Troy are prone to. Just last year it was Bergen and Forrest who would wander every game. Something happened to Bergen this year. He has found a happiness and sense of community in LF.

This is the same sense that his father has had his entire life. His father, Gus, has been attending games for as long as he can remember. He attended his first game at 1 year old. Gus has an undying passion for the game and has balanced his life as a father of two sonsand his job as a butcher for 30 years at Safeway with his passion for the A's.

Gus gets there just about as early as anyone and he hangs his "KENDALL" banner at every game. He told me last night that Mrs. Kendall actually jokes with Jason about that being her sign!!!

So, here was Gus's son displaying all of the passion that I'd known his father to possess and it made me think about my own son.

My questions were answered when I returned from retrieving (In Ken Macha's phraseology) an adult beverage and there were Bergen and Forrest playing the beats on the drums. I took my place next to my son and we played together for two innings. At the time I knew it was special, and now the gravity of the event is hitting me. There was my son, sharing in my passion.

It is the same passion that my grandmother passed on to her grandchildren.

The Coliseum is not just a concrete Monolyth, it is home. It is where in my childhood I dreamt of playing baseball in the Golden California sunshine. It is the place where I first found love for something and not someone. It is also where my son if finding that same love.

I will miss my home, but will always have my memories burning bright in the back edges of my brain. And now, it looks like my son will too!!!

Go A's!!!