I never stopped loving baseball, but being in love and loving are two different things.

It is hard to pinpoint the exact moment when I fell out of love with the game. I know it happened when I was in college.

My major league team, the Cubs, had just suffered through the Steve Bartman incident and the endless rotation of media stories about the infamous goat curse that followed it. I was disheartened by Moises Alou’s on field meltdown and the subsequent reaction of Cubs fans toward Bartman, who was just doing what most fans do when a foul ball comes within their reach. It broke my heart when the Cubs fell apart and blew a 3-2 playoff series lead against the Marlins because they couldn’t get over something a fan did.

Some of my favorite players from the 90s were being hauled before Congress over steroid use. I didn’t care that baseball players were juicing. The summer of 1998, when Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire were chasing Roger Maris’ homerun record, is still my favorite baseball memory, regardless of the controversy that surrounded it.

Baseball is kept alive by “small ball.” Bunts and singles and moving guys from base to base are the things that keep an offense going, but homeruns are what most fans want to see. But when Sosa acted like he couldn’t speak English under questioning, or when the other guys straight up lied to Congress, it took its toll on my fandom.

Last weekend I fell back in love with baseball.

We took our family, three kids under age six and their grandparents, to a Birmingham Barons game at the new Regions Park in the heart of the Magic City.

After falling behind 2-0 early on, the Barons scored and scored and scored some more, eventually taking a 13-2 win against the Tennessee Smokies. They used “small ball” for the bulk of their runs and a homer or two gave them a lift, too.

My oldest kids, 5 and 6, cheered for the BayBears most of the game, since we are used to going to games in Mobile. But at least they were cheering.

My daughter made friends with the twentysomethings in the row in front of us. My son predicted a homerun, and when the next Barons hitter jacked one over the left field fence, the people around him congratulated him.

We all cheered when the Hot Dog, the Chef, and the Taco raced around the warning track, then laughed when Barons mascot Babe Ruff tackled the Hot Dog, allowing the Chef to bring home the win. And the post-game fireworks display was better than the July 4 one we saw the night before.

Regions Park is an awesome place to watch a game. Almost every seat is field level and there are several grassy areas where families can relax on blankets and their kids can run wild without getting lost in a busy stadium concourse. They had promotions in between every inning: a kiss cam, a dance off, the food race, a keg race. When you leave your seat to grab a hot dog, the vendor area is open enough so you can still watch the game.

It was exactly what you want your Minor League Baseball experience to be. A good game, won by the home team, with enough fun to keep your kids interested and give them a baseball experience they will remember for a long time.

It brought back one of my first baseball memories, a Barons game at the old Rickwood Field, the first time I fell in love with the game.

I’m back there again.