About 6-7 years ago I got my first foul ball at a game but it was a cheap one, the ball rolled down an empty aisle in front of me as I sat down the first base line and I picked it up. I actually had a overanxious big-headed kid, about ten years old, knock the ball from my hand about two seconds after I picked it up. He got it and apologized and handed it back to me, which was a good thing for him because I was already planning his demise.
Last season, while sitting with family about ten rows back of the dugout, a soft liner came off the bat of a late-swinging righty. Everyone around me parted like that Sea that was Red in the bible(I forget it's name) and I caught it! I used two hands, for you kids at home reading this. That ball instantly became my favorite son. It sits on my shelf, right in the middle, proudly displayed. Old rolly ball is off to the side on my desk among cards and other assorted things. I now call it my red-headed step-ball.
Here is the pic I sent out to friends and family on facebook announcing the "birth" of my favorite son
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