A Father's Baseball Diary
I’ve been on paternity leave for seven weeks, a stretch that has turned my mornings into lullabies and my evenings into diaper changes. My wife’s go‑to lullaby is a Black Eyed Peas track that somehow calms our fussy daughter, and between feedings I find myself scrolling through box scores as if they were bedtime stories.
Last night the Cubs and White Sox turned the ninth into a tenth that felt like a mini‑playoff. Dansby Swanson was walked, Nico Hoerner chopped a ball to shortstop, and the White Sox loaded the bases with an intentional pass to Michael Busch. Alex Bregman’s soft grounder nudged a run across, and a tense rundown followed before Chase Meidroth’s bunt set up a close play at first.
The climax came when Edgar Quero launched a ball to left‑center, sealing a White Sox victory. Yet the moment that lingered in my mind was the earlier blast by rookie Junior Caminero, his 12th homer of the season arriving on a pitch that seemed aimed at the corner but ended up over the fence.
Caminero’s swing reminded me of Kirk Gibson’s iconic 1988 World Series homer — a low, outside‑corner pull that traveled farther than any other low‑outside shot this year. Watching it, I felt the same rush that keeps analysts glued to the screen, even as my own attention span has been stretched thin by baby giggles.
After weeks of paternity leave, the game’s analysis has become a kind of withdrawal. The thrill of a close inning, the crack of a bat, the strategic chess moves — all of it pulls me back to a world where every pitch matters. I’m learning to carry that excitement into the nursery, where a simple song can be as dramatic as a ninth‑inning rally.