I was 13 years old and my dad asked me if I wanted to watch the Reds play Atlanta. In me smart train of thinking and superior thinking, I decided that Hank wouldn’t play and that I would rather play touchy feely with the girlfriend I had at the time. Needless to say, I have regretted that decision. Not so much as the record tying of the Babe, but of the only 7 times I went to Riverfront with my dad that could have been 8.
My mom appreciated it. It was her first game at Riverfront. My dad loved it because he had someone to drive his drunk ass home. Now I guess O appreciate it because I have 2 ticket stubs around here that I have kept to remind me of ot