Astros deliver on day trip with my son

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not the biggest baseball guy in the world.
In the past, I’ve accused it of being too slow-paced. Now that the game is faster paced, I now accuse it of not being what it traditionally was before.
I’m a mess, I know.
I may not be the biggest fan of watching baseball on television. However, when it comes to live sporting events there is nothing that can beat a day at the ballpark.
It’s hot dogs and peanuts. The seventh inning stretch. It’s the idea that you can keep your own scorecard and get as dorky as you want to.
It’s a three-hour communion with what Americana used to stand for, and I needed my son to experience that first-hand.
So me, my son, my best friend and my godchild packed up a vehicle and headed to Houston last Sunday to watch the Astros play the Los Angeles Angels in an afternoon game.
There were many reasons to be excited about the baseball itself.
The Astros set a new franchise record for total strikeouts in a nine-inning game in punching out 20 Angel hitters.
There was the true coming out party of Houston rookie shortstop Jeremy Pena, who hit two home runs that included the walk-off bomb that sent Astros fans home happy.
There was the opportunity to see two of the game’s most talented players today, Angels Mike Trout and Shohei Ohtani, live and in the flesh.
There were the killer seats we were able to score in the right-field stands on the lower level.
But, for me it was so much more than that.
It was a chance to bond with my son, an increasingly more difficult task as he enters the throes of teenage angst this month upon his 13th birthday.
We’ve had him play all the sports he could try at least once.
Tennis. Basketball. Baseball. Football. Golf. Soccer.
He’s tried them all, none of them have stuck.
It’s not his fault. Some kids are just wired differently.
Nonetheless, it thrilled me that he seemed to genuinely enjoy his day at Minute Maid Park with his dad.
Perhaps he didn’t love the two women yelling in his ear behind him, but who does really?
Perhaps the game ran a little longer than he anticipated. Who doesn’t get annoyed by that?
What really mattered above all was that for the entire 3 hours and 30 minutes, plus the six hours in the car, all was right in the world.
He laughed. He ate a wonderful slice of pizza with me at Luigi’s Pizzeria.
He asked questions about baseball.
He balanced me out perfectly, preferring the crunchy nachos while I took the cheese-soaked soggy ones off of his hands.
It’s very possible that I’ll never convert him into a sports fan.
I’m learning that that’s OK.
What really matters above all is that, every once in a while, we get those moments of bonding that are more and more fleeting.
Before I know it, he’ll be driving and he’ll really be too cool to hang out with me.
Maybe that’ll be the next time I pull out the H-Town road trip.
Because as time goes on, the ways games are played and pop culture trends change.
But in terms of tools to bond with your kids, the ballpark will always be there.
And I hope last Sunday travels with him for the rest of his life like it will with me.