Junior Griffey

When I was six years old, I thought I was Ken Griffey Jr. I wore my hat backwards and held my bat by the barrel instead of the handle as I swaggered to the plate. I drove my friends insane as I described every play I made as "Junior-esque". I would hit long fly balls into the neighbor's shrubs (also known as the green monster) and unstrap my gloves and admire my bomb with three steps before breaking into my home run trot. I wore No. 24 in little league and played center field. I told everyone I would be the next Ken Griffey Jr.

Until it was pointed out to me that Griffey was a southpaw and I unfortunately was north-pawed.

Not many things can devastate a six year old. Aside from the green Power Ranger being killed off the show, I cannot recall any more demoralizing event during my youth. Fortunately, I was able to overcome this travesty. My admiration for Junior has wavered as he's been banished to baseball obscurity, also known as Cincinnati. But no longer.

Tomorrow night at this time I will be sitting somewhere in the bleachers at Citizens Bank Park hoping to witness history. For the great Ken Griffey Jr has amassed 599 home runs throughout his stellar career. If Griffey does hit one tomorrow, it will make him only the sixth human being to hit 600 home runs. I've seen my share of ballgames in my day, but to see Griffey up close will cross off one of my biggest "to-do's" in sports. I have a feeling another home run may cross off one of Griffey's "to-do's" as well.