As Kevin Brown threw his first pitch Monday, my 6 1/2-month-old daughter was sitting on my lap for her first baseball game.

I donÕt remember what the pitch was - and yet, itÕs a pitch IÕll never forget. I have the image of my daughter bouncing on my lap, facing the field, each of her arms in my arms. A blurred image of Brown is in the background, but the focus is on the moment, not the result. I donÕt think I even followed the ball to home plate - not for any conscious reasons, but just because I was so caught up in the fact that I, who was fortunate enough to get season tickets to the Dodgers just after my 13th birthday, could be taking a child to a baseball game. My own child.

In fact, I almost didnÕt do it. I was going to have her debut be at a game with less circumstance and pomp, less of a crowd, easier negotiations of the traffic and the lines. It was my wife who convinced me to take a vacation day from work and make this our daughterÕs first game. IÕm really glad we did. My wife on one side of me, my father on the other side, and my daughter in my lap (and my brother and his relatives behind us). And a beautiful ballfield in front of us on a beautiful day.