Dad made it happen. June 26 every year. Don’t think he told anyone why, not even Mom. Said it was because I was born the day after Christmas. Usually my birthday felt like something of an afterthought, parental obligation.
We’d go to a game, majors if possible, minors when necessary. If needed he’d take the day off and sometimes we traveled. Even made sure his death didn’t break the rhythm. Got sick in August and was gone by Thanksgiving. Almost twenty years since.
I go each year with my kids. Never told them why. Maybe it’s more for him than me.