A Tour To Remember

 My father asked my brother and I this question at lunch on Monday.

"Did you think your 'ol dad would make it to 72?"

My response: "Yes!" Without a doubt. Yes.

Kids, er I mean, adults who are kids at heart, do not want to entertain the notion that our parents are mortal. Even when my dad was in the thick of it this year with his cancer surgery, then chemo treatments, it was Bish strong all the way.

Don't get me wrong. There were days that were scary and days when my siblings and I reassured each other it was going to be ok, but not making it to his birthday did not cross my mind. So after all that he had been through this year, dad's birthday celebration had to be very special.

On a crisp November morning, seven people packed in my van and off we went. Destination - PNC Park. We were scheduled for a tour at 12:00 p.m. on the dot.

For my dad, being a life-long baseball fan, one who even tried out for the Pirates, this was the perfect way to spend an afternoon. Our tour guide, Jim, took us on a journey that seemed to last only minutes and started just beyond the turnstiles. We looked at memorabilia collected through the years from old bats, to jerseys to photos. We toured the underground city where players and staff work hard to create the magic that is a game day experience at PNC Park.

An appreciation for baseball is something I've inherited although not lovingly nurtured. I do not actively follow the Pirates or any Major League team. I do not go to many games, other than my son's coach pitch match-ups, and I don't talk ball with friends. But I did truly enjoy the afternoon at the ball park.

I don't want to take away from Jim's tour presentation but I learned a lot from the almost two hours we spent there. I learned I should take my allergy meds before attending a game, the field is straight up Kentucky Bluegrass, my nostrils' nemesis, and I also learned that Forbes Field was the model for PNC Park in many ways.

Although many of us know this fact from simply sitting in stands, it was confirmed on a grand scale while sitting in the press box (part of our tour). Our baseball park has a breathtaking view -one that an Impressionist painter could not recreate even on his best day. I hope to one day be able to sit there and watch a game and be expected to only write about the sensory experience that a Sunday afternoon at PNC Park can be.

I have fond childhood memories of Pirates games with my family at Three Rivers Stadium. I remember parking at Station Square and taking the boat. I remember trying to keep stats in the program book and being entertained by the always hilarious Pirate Parrot. I also remember my dad taking me to the concourse to cool off and get some shade when the afternoon sun got to be too much. Don't get me started on the best hot dogs I've ever eaten in my life.

I also have the memory of watching Three Rivers implode. Seventeen years ago, my family huddled on the banks of the Allegheny River on a cold February morning with a thermos of hot cocoa to see this iconic structure come tumbling down. Nothing could be better than Three Rivers I thought. Boy, was I wrong.

For a family of five, the PNC Park experience is a little more expensive than an afternoon at Three Rivers 30 years ago. I am not sure what my kids will remember about the few times we've gone to game when they look back on their childhood. But I do hope they remember their grandfather's 72nd birthday tour, posing for photos in the dugout, their uncle telling stories of the night fans flooded the streets during a playoff run, and being enveloped by the best view on the planet.