"Hi Willie Bloomquist!"

I'm sure any witnesses suspected I was using him as bait. Even at Spring Training, I learned, the practice of attracting the attention (read: autograph) of even a minor league ballplayer, is serious stuff. I'd seen the professional autograph hounds for years at the Sonics, and become fairly immune to it, but even quaint ballparks on sunny mornings in the Cactus league can't escape them.

Nearly 4 year old Colin, rosy cheeks from the 90 degree weather, over sized Mariners cap slightly askew, and Ichiro jersey t-shirt was a Spring Training magnet. Seat neighbors chuckled (except the woman who, unable to hide her exasperation, blurted "why do you keep touching my toes?" -- Biggie's fascination with toes, women's toes in particular, is as consistent as it is odd/troubling), ushers (they're all retirees and grandparents apparently) couldn't resist a greeting and conversation, and ballplayers went directly to him.

Maybe my parental bias shows in assuming his off-the-charts cuteness was responsible this. Perhaps it was the high-decibel, unrelenting, unmistakably child-like voice greeting he gave EVERY baseball player he saw. "Hi Yuniesky." "Hi, Jose Lopez, Hi." "Raul, Hi, Raul." No one escaped the onslaught of greetings. Sure he picked up a Sharpie every once in a while as the weekend wore on and he witnessed how everyone else interacted, but somehow Colin decided at the first spring training game (one of four... in four days .... plus a Suns game ... in 90+ degree weather ... yes, he's four, no it's not excessive and yes, we used sunscreen... liberally) that he was going to greet every baseball player he saw. If he knew them he would use their name, if he didn't he'd just say hi. Over and over.

To their credit, most players (tall first basemen and fleet-footed center fielders being the exception) responded. A wave, a smile, "hey buddy," "how ya' doin,'" tip of the cap, etc. provided a great acknowledgement. And many, sought out and approached the small, shrill greeting. It was a great moment, repeated often over four days, for a ball player to see the source of the greeting, come over assuming he'll have a Sharpie and ball thrust in his direction, but instead get the greeting again, "Hi", this time at close range. No strings attached, no autograph needed, just a near 4 year old saying hello.

It was actually quite disarming to see the players break out of their autograph coma when they realized this little guy just wanted to say hello. The ensuing reactions were genuine -- a return greeting, a high five, short conversation, just a moment of connection until the autograph hounds descended, washing the red-cheeked four year old into a sea of thrusting hands and balls -- "can you sign, can you sign, sign the sweet spot please, just one more..."

A week after returning, when breaking the news to Colin that he wasn't going on the upcoming NCAA regional basketball trip, he responded with only one question and this one directed at his older brother -- "Quinny, Quinny, when you go on your trip, are you going to say hi to the basketball players...."