I credit my dad for my initial interest in baseball, but now this love is all mine

I can definitely credit my dad for my initial interest in baseball. I think before it was even determined if he was having a girl or boy, he had decided to make sure that at least one of his children would be as obsessed with the game as he is.

Enter daughter. I have been raised on baseball from the very beginning. I learned how to score a game when I was six. My dad bought me a children's scorekeeping book that had cute little outlined spaces for ticket stubs and headings for the team matchups. I had the luxury of experiencing my first baseball games at the now sadly deceased (hah!) Veteran's stadium. The Phillies were okay at that point, obviously nothing like they are now. In those days they were kind of just expected to finish second to the Braves every year. It's funny thinking about it now, because our starting rotation now is consistently compared to that power staff--Maddux, Glavine, Smoltz. Speaking of Maddux, he was my first baseball card.

Most weekends growing up, I played Strat-o-matic baseball with my dad. This was probably the catalyst in increasing my interest and knowledge in baseball. I usually played with the Yankees, and my dad would pick another American League team (Phillies aside, NL teams aren't really quite as fun...). Did I mention my first obsession was the Yankees? We all go through phases, no judging, please. Anyway, as I grew up I really only knew the Yankees, kind of the Phillies, but not much else. Don't worry, I am a fully converted fan now and will never go back to the dark side. Anyway, at some point in my high school years, my interest in baseball skyrocked. And this wasn't just about the Phillies, it was everything about the game. I immersed myself in baseball. I wrote my college Common Application essay about baseball. I watched MLB.tv instead of doing homework (this is still true even now that I'm in college). I listen to MLB on XM like it is my job. Oh, and I now write a baseball beat for the Columbia Spectator...pretty sweet gig, right?

I may have not seen those amazing Yankees teams that my dad got to watch in nosebleed seats in the 70s, but I have gotten to witness some pretty cool stuff myself. The 2008 World Series win, for one thing. Cliff Lee's return to Philly. Pat Burrell "running". Wilson Valdez's killer arm (if you don't know who this is, shame on you). Beckett's domination of the Yankees to win the 2003 World Series for the Marlins at Yankees stadium. Ryan Madson's scarily accurate pie-ing-in-the-face of any Phillies players of the game. You get the idea.

I promise not to stop writing either. Being a baseball fan stuck in an all-girls school combined with being a Phillies fan in the heart of Yankees/Mets territory is not an easy life. I need an outlet somewhere.