With sports on an indefinite hiatus, I have taken to YouTube to check out one game every day. On Monday, I watched game seven of the 1991 World Series between Atlanta and Minnesota.

My grandpa brought me to Game Two of the World Series in 1991. I was only nine years old, but it was amazing.

As the story goes, I wasn't actually supposed to get to go to the game. My grandpa, who had his name drawn in a lottery for the right to buy World Series tickets, had invited my dad to go to the game.

My dad, being the amazing dad that he is, told my grandpa to bring me in his place while he stayed home and colored with my sister.

When the series came back to Minnesota for games six and seven, my grandpa had some tough decisions to make. He had to choose between my grandma, my aunt, my dad and me to take to the games.

In the end, he chose to take my grandma to both games. As a kid, I don't remember it bothering me at all. As a married adult, I completely understand why he chose my grandma: it wasn't really a choice at all.

I remember watching every game of the World Series, but I don't remember any specifics about it. I don't really even remember if I stayed up late enough to see the end of the games.