Last night, Mariano Rivera's son worked as the bat boy for the Yanks and he wore #42 just like his old man.  With one out in the ninth inning, the boy was perched on the top step of the dugout, leaning over the fence.  Tony Pena told him to step down and the boy sat next to Pena on the bench.  Girardi was next to them.  I wondered what it must be like to be the son of a big leaguer.  The rest of the men on the team must really accept you into the fold.

The next time the YES cameras cut back to the dugout the boy was back on the top step.  Joba Chamberlain was next to him.  They watched the kid's father put the Orioles down quickly.  When Nick Markakis checked his swing on a full-count pitch, Joba said, "That's it" as the team moved out of the dugout and onto the field.  The home plate umpire pointed at Markakis, who had held-up on a check swing just a few pitches earlier.  An appeal was made to third but Laz Diaz just smiled as he walked off the field.

The young Rivera, like his old man, was calm and composed.  A few minutes later, the YES cameras showed the kid following behind his father, a double-vision of #42.  For a moment I wondered, what if Rivera is a mean parent?  What if he is cold and distant?  What if the kid will never be able to live up to the pressure of being the son of a famous athlete?  Then I allowed myself to have a nicer fantasy--what if being Mariano Rivera's son really is all it's cracked up to be?  What if he's a great dad? 

Reality lies somewhere inbetween I'm sure, but that looked to be about as cool a bring-your-kid-to-work-day as you could ever see, right?