"Mothers are beautiful, they really are." --Bill Cosby.
My mom took me to a bunch of games when I was a kid--mostly for birthday parties. I don't remember much about them, though one year Mike Gittleson stepped on a pack of mustard outside the Stadium and it splattered on my mom's leg. She didn't skip a beat and rubbed her leg against Mike's removing the mustard from her and putting it on him.
Years later, I was working on my first cutting room job when my mom called in the middle of the day. "I've got two tickets for tonight's game, do you want them?" It was the first round of the 1995 playoffs, the first post-season game the Yankees were in since 1981. Ma lives and works in Westchester and she offered to drive to Manhattan and drop off the tickets. I said, "Ma, why don't we just meet by the bat and go to the game together?"
So we did, and it was a memorable game of course, one the greatest experiences I've ever had watching the Yanks.
Cliff took his mom with him to the game today to celebrate her birthday. He's only only a good son, but she's a great Ma too. Here's hoping they have a grand time and get to see Moose win his sixteenth game of the year. The Yankee offense has been so bad of late you gotta figure they are gunna unleash soon. C'mon you dummies, do it for Moose and do it for Cliff and his Ma.