Forty-four years ago, I was patiently waiting for our first-born to arrive.

Onesies were washed and folded,
diapers were stacked,
the hospital bag was packed.

To while away the time,
I spent hours on the couch watching the 1982 World Series.

Harvey’s Wallbangers were my companions—
Rockin’ Robin Yount,
Paul “The Ignitor” Moliter,
Stormin’ Gorman,
Rollie “The Mustache” Fingers.

I watched every minute of all seven games, cheering for my home-team.

Baseball got in my blood in 1982.

It’s been a long wait.

I’ve punched my ticket for the 2026 World Series.
Not the $5,000 seat at AmFam field.
The one in my living room,
on my couch,
just like 1982.