As the father of a baseball player, all of my Father's Days from about 2001 until 2012 involved sitting in the brutal Texas heat, watching my son's travel team play Father's Day tournaments. Up at 700 am on Saturday and Sunday. Loading the cooler with food and LOTS AND LOTS of drinks.
Packing the sunscreen, the bugspray, the chairs, and eventually, a pop-up cover to bring to sites all over the State of Texas, hanging it over some bleachers somewhere as we prepare to watch 2 or 3 games over a 8 to 12 hour period. If we were fortunate enough to be playing at Big League Dreams (the replica facility in League City), there was beer and air conditioning.
Otherwise, by 800 at night, we had lost 5 lbs of water weight, added two layers of melanomas, and had the time of our lives. Win lose or rainout, there was nothing better than watching your kid take the hill against the Banditos Black, the Texas Heat, the Southside Sliders, the Kingwood Arsenal (featuring a girl at first base that would smack you in the face everytime she swipe tagged you leading off first), etc. etc.
When we returned home Sunday night, exhausted, heat-stroked and parched, Fathers Day was complete. Open a gift or two, and a card, and call it a weekend. Those days are precious, and will never be replaced.
Oh, and in 2006, my son (wife), got me a picture of the 2005 dogpile after the NLCS series against the Cards, with Big Puma in the middle. Certified with a piece of a game used baseball. Awesome. There is some guy named Gipson (#31) in the pic too.....who in the heck was he??????