Tomorrow is Opening Day in my hometown, the birthplace of professional baseball, Cincinnati, Ohio. That's right sports fans--in 1869 the hometown Red Stockings became the first pro team of America's national pastime. From long before my birth Opening Day has been a holiday in Cincinnati, along with a parade featuring local celebrities, schoolchildren and city businesses. Opening Day has always been important in my family. One of the prized possessions I had as a boy was a scrapbook my father had kept when he was young. Subject matter--the Cincinnati Reds. My favorite piece in that scrapbook is a picture from the Cincinnati Post taken of my dad and three of his high school friends camping out on the sidewalk overnight to be first in line to buy bleacher tickets for Opening Day. That picture inspired me when I was in high school to skip school with four of my friends to go see the hometown team on opening day. We didn't need to be too secretive about our adventure. I told my high school principal about our plans--he expressed envy that he couldn't join us. My oldest son, Mark, carries on the tradition. For the past several years he has taken off work and hosted an Opening Day party at his house--or at the local sports bar--wherever we can watch the Reds open the season. This year--tomorrow--the tradition continues. Mark will pull his first-grade son, Elijah, out of school to join his dad, Uncle Mike and grandfather for opening day festivities. When Ezra, Mark's youngest, wakes up from his nap he will join us. Ez will parade around the family room reciting the mantra of the day, "Baseball! Baseball! Baseball!" It's a funny thing--this bond that baseball brings between generations of males. My father and I have always been able to connect over our passion for the Reds. He took me many times to old Crosley Field when I was a young boy to see them in person. Now, with much of his faculties fogged over by dimentia, we can still watch a game together and he is engaged and conversant. Mark was born in 1976 on the morning of the first day of the World Series. Later that day the Reds shut out the New York Yankees. A great day! When Mark was about 18 months old his mother and I took him to his first game at Riverfront Stadium. He was absolutely mesmerized from the moment he saw the field. "Baseball! Baseball! Baseball!" Last year marked the return of championship baseball to Cincinnati--the Reds won the Central Division crown. It was a long time in coming. Mark and his brother Mike and I made pilgrimage to Cincinnati to see the first playoff game at the new Great American Ballpark. First post-season game in Cincinnati in 15 years. The Reds lost, but it didn't really matter. Another memory cast in bronze. But just the annual rite of spring--the return of baseball--is enough cause for celebration. A Reds' victory would be a decided bonus.