Peanuts In My Pocket

I grew up in the L.A. area, closer to Orange County, so naturally, I’m an Angels fan. I’ve been to quite a few Dodgers games over the years and generally root for them too, but in my heart, it’s always been the Angels.

Thanks to the generosity of my sister Lisa and her husband Jim, I had the opportunity to attend a game. They have legendary season tickets—right behind home plate and high enough to watch pitches come in over the umpire’s head. My son and I went to the game on April 1st to see the Braves play the Dodgers. The Dodgers pulled out a late-innings win, 3–1.

I’ve watched Ohtani play on TV many times, especially during last year’s playoffs and the World Series, but I’d never seen him live. I don’t typically attend games in person—a personal choice largely shaped by how I manage my social anxiety. I had chances to see him play for the Angels, but it never quite worked out.

Seeing Ohtani in person was something else entirely. I remember watching Magic Johnson run the court for the first time, and seeing Michael Jordan drive to the basket in a game against the Lakers. They played a different game than everyone else. In baseball, I recall feeling the same awe watching Nolan Ryan pitch in the ’70s, and Roger Clemens a decade later. You don’t forget moments like those.

Ohtani stands at the plate like a Greek god, his bat pointing straight up at the stars. Everyone on the field reacts to him. You can sense something is about to happen as he steps up—it ripples through the crowd. He swings the bat with such speed and precision that at one point I turned to my son and asked, “Is that how you’re supposed to swing a bat?”

I’m grateful for this experience—so much so that I plan to take my grandson to a few games this summer, so he can feel the same joy and begin building memories of his own. I’ll treasure this moment for the rest of my life. Thank you, Lisa and Jim. Truly, thank you.