But I was reminded of that famous quote last week when my son invited me to go to SBC Park to see the San Francisco Giants play the New York Mets on Friday night. Because just as triples would disappear to become outs in Willie's glove, the same can be said for singles in Kevin's wallet--I would be out singles, and fives, and 10s ...

You see, my son's wallet is the place change goes to die. And I was reminded of that when I handed him a couple of 20s to go to the concession stand to get us some hot dogs and sodas in the early innings last Friday. He returned with a couple dogs, two Cokes and a couple of bags of peanuts, but no change.

"Hey, where's my change?" I asked an inning or so later.

"Oh, I've got it here in my pocket," he replied. "I'll give it to you after the game."

Well, I'm still waiting. Of course, he really never said which game, now did he!

It's my fault, really. I have always depended too much on ATMs for my cash flow, and they generally spit out 20s. So when he was a teenager and needed for money for gas, it was 20 bucks. If he needed money for lunch at school, it was a 20. And when he needed money for a little ballpark food last week, I gave him a couple of 20s.

Of course, given the prices at the ballpark, it may have cost him $40 for two dogs, two drinks and two bags of nuts. And buying the food was the least I could do since he came up with the tickets--they were free, I might add, since a friend gave them to him. So since parking cost me 20 bucks, there was the $40 on "dinner," another $20 for a late-inning snack and I paid for gas to get there, that "free" game only cost me 100 bucks.

Of that, I'm not sure how much was left in his wallet of the change I never got back.

I suppose old habits die hard. This is really a practice he's perfected after more than a decade of training that dates back to his pre-teen years. He actually developed it into almost an art.

He worked it as if it were a part-time job during his teen years. He'd weasel a 20 out of me to go to the movies or to go bowling with his friends or to go to the video arcade.

"OK," I'd say, "but I want you to bring me back the change."

"Oh, I will," he'd reply, with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. Then he'd do his best to avoid me the rest of the day and most of the next until he was sure that I'd forgotten about it. A couple of days later, we'd go through it all over again.

"Hi, Dad," he'd say, "can I have some money for gas?"

"Sure, Kev ... hey, where's the change from the last $20 bill I gave you?" I'd ask.

"Uh, I'm not sure," he'd say. "Are you sure I didn't give that back to you?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," I'd say.

"Well, I'll look for it, but right now I really need to get some gas or I can't get to school," he'd hurriedly say, knowing that I didn't want him to be late for class.

"OK, but don't forget my change!' I'd repeat.

"Sure, Dad," he'd promise.

What is it with young people these days? They can takes honors math in high school, they can max the math portion of the SAT and they can take high-level math courses in college--but they can't manage to subtract a $7.48 Taco Bell transaction from a $20 bill and come up with any change.

You'd think that after all these years of school, he'd be smart enough to figure it out. Hmmm ... or maybe it's me who'd not smart enough to figure it out.

Well, at least I learned one thing at the Giants game the other night--Kevin's never going to change.

Want to talk? Give me a call at 408.354.3110, or write to dsparrer@svcn.com.