Today is BatDad's birthday, and Batgirl would like to extend a big birthday shout-out to the man who taught her to love baseball. (It was Dan Gladden that taught BatMom to love baseball, but that's another story.)

When Batgirl and Goober were young, BatDad used to take them to Met stadium, and Batgirl has fond memories of sitting outside munching on goodies while her father explained to her the intricacies of the game. Or yelled things at Roy Smalley. And when Batgirl was older and the Twins moved to the Dome, sometimes he'd come home from work early, find Batgirl doing her homework, and say, "Hey, do you want to go to the game?"

Batgirl always did.

Both Batgirl and Goober grew up playing t-ball. For Goober, BatDad often served as coach. One year, he signed up BatMom to be a coach, too, because the teams were required to have two coaches and he didn't want to work with anyone else. He never actually told BatMom, and she was very confused when she started getting phone calls about practices. BatDad had of course signed up Mom to be head coach, and himself to be the assistant.

Once, during t-ball, Batgirl got an unassisted triple play. This remains a high point in the lore of the BatFamily, it essentially consisted of the ball magically landing in her hands, and BatDad shouting from the stands, "Step on the base!" then, "Tag him, tag him!" Batgirl would not always obey her father, but then she did and she's not sure if he's ever been so proud.

There's a park in front of Batgirl's old house, and in the park was a big tree with a hollow that is now lost to Dutch Elm disease. But that tree was the world's greatest catcher, even better than Joe Mauer. Batgirl and Goober would practice their hitting while BatDad threw pitches and talked to them about their stance. He taught Batgirl to throw the ball like a good third baseman, and in junior high gym, Batgirl sucked at every single sport—but she always got picked early for teams when softball time came around.

When the Twins went to the playoffs in '87, BatDad got the whole family tickets. We had our homer hankies, our shirts, our hats—we bought out the entire pro shop, for two weeks our family was in baseball heaven. When something good would happen, BatDad would stand up and cheer louder than anyone--he'd turn to his kids and give us sky-high double barreled high fives, whooping and beaming.

BatDad doesn't go to the games as much anymore; he doesn't like the Dome, and he lost track of the Twins during the Dark Years. But when he does come with us and something good happens, he still turns to us, both arms raised high in the air, slapping our hands hard with the joy of baseball shining in his eyes.

Now, BatDad has started playing catch with the five year old neighbor boy, and Batgirl cannot help but be touched. The boy might grow up to be a major leaguer or he might grow up to be a Supreme Court justice, but no matter what, when he plays baseball with his own son, he'll think of BatDad and smile.