The Perfect Day

Two lower box seats at AT&T park: $93 I had no business spending

Veggie dogs, garlic fries, and Cokes for two: $37 I had no business spending

Gas, bridge tolls, and parking: $52.50 I had no business spending

A day at the ballpark with my son on a brilliant day for an awesome game: Priceless

Shortly after being woken Sunday morning by Zoë, at 6:10 after a very long week, with the kids home on vacation and Kelly traveling, I expressed in no uncertain terms a need for some alone time. Or family time. Or both. And shortly after that, completely by coincidence, I discovered that Randy Johnson, Zach's favorite pitcher, would later that day be going up against his former team—and just as importantly, the only team in the Major Leagues who he'd never beaten—the Arizona Diamondbacks. When Kelly heard this, her response was immediate: "Go!"

Since money is tight, I was hesitant. It didn't help that we'd promised Zoë that, on its final day, we'd take her to the annual Spring Break carnival. Perhaps even more significant, since she'd never yet attended one, Zienna was begging to go. But as Kelly egged me on, I realized I was long overdue for time with Zach, too. And alone time. And baseball.

So I did it.

Moments later, Zach and I were frantically packing essentials—caps, gloves, seeds, music for the three-plus-hour drive, and sunscreen—and heading out the door. It was roughly 9:30, and we didn't have a moment to spare.

Hitting Interstate 5, we quickly fell into a relaxed existence, as Zach has acquired from me not just a love of baseball but a shared appreciation for trance music. With the bass thumping from our favorite, DJ Doboy, we were soon barreling down the highway with hardly a care in the world. We'd headed out without breakfast, but our grumbling stomachs didn't matter much. We had a higher calling: GIANTS BASEBALL! And long overdue Giants baseball at that.

Though I did my best to push the speed limit a bit, we were up against numerous participants heading home from the weekend's Kool April Nights classic car rally held here in Redding. With some cars on the road and others on trailers, it seemed we were constantly behind someone not willing or unable to to go the speed limit. By the time we reached the outskirts of civilization—aka Vacaville—we were not as far along as we needed to be. And then we hit the Bay Bridge toll plaza, which showed us no mercy. Minutes ticked by as we sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic quickly remembering why, all things considered, we don't really miss the Bay Area.

By the time we got to the bridge, the traffic finally opened up, and we made our way across with the first inning of our game already in the history books. Fortunately, since I used to work a block from the stadium, I was able to navigate our way quickly to a reliable and cheap parking garage adjacent to the stadium before the end of the second inning. Then we dashed across King Street, intent on getting to the game.

Once inside, we grabbed some food, since we'd not yet eaten, and made our way to our seats, along the first base line and just six rows up from the Diamondback's bullpen mound. Then we relaxed, taking in the glorious stadium that for too many games to count—World Series and playoff games among them—we'd taken for granted when we lived in the Bay Area and owned a share of Giants season tickets. It was a glorious day, just over 80 degrees and with a slight breeze. One of the most historic pitchers in Major League history was pitching for my team. And I was with my son, who I'd promised would see this matchup before season's end. There wasn't much more I could ask for.

Oh, and said pitcher was on his game, despite pregame concerns he might not be. At 45 (Ahem!), he'd pitched two duds in a row to debut for his new team, and it was questionable whether he'd be in true form any time soon. But he was, throwing seven innings of spectacular, nail-biting no-hit ball. And the Giants offense, asleep since opening week, showed up to support him. Zach and I couldn't have been much more excited. When Randy left the game, we gave him a standing ovation. And for my part, it was as much a thank you for my son as much as anything. We might never again see this man, who I'd taken Zach years before to see face the Giants when he was almost too young to appreciate why people were giving him dirty looks for cheering the opposing pitcher, play again. So this was really, really special.

In the end, the Giants won the game 2-0. When they did, Zach and I cheered until we were hoarse, high-fived, and reveled in what had been a magnificent day. On the way out, I added to our "no business spending" total by purchasing Zach a Randy Johnson Giants shirt. I knew it meant a lot to him, and I knew he might never get one if I didn't buy it right then. And then we headed home, in indescribable father-son love and content beyond words, with trance music thumping to keep us awake.

Sometimes, life is almost too good to describe. Sunday falls into that category, and I doubt I've done it justice. But it doesn't really matter. Zach told me repeatedly on the way home how much fun he'd had, how much he loved me, and how much he'd appreciated the day. And those words are far more important than mine. In fact, I'd call them priceless.