• Originally published July 31, 2008 at 6:02 a.m., updated July 31, 2008 at 6:02 a.m.

The difference between Arlington and San Francisco was about 40 degrees.

The temperature wasn’t all that was different about Rangers Ballpark in Arlington and AT&T Park in San Francisco, but it was the most noticeable.

In less than a week, my son and I went from sweltering in 90-plus degree heat to shivering in the chill that temperatures in the 50s and a strong breeze send up your spine.

Dallas was the first stop on our recent vacation before we left for San Francisco. It had been 12 years since my son had been to California and with my niece headed to Kansas to begin her first year of college, it was well past time to make a family visit.

There was no way we were going to pass up a chance to see a major league ballgame and fortunately the Chicago White Sox were in Arlington for a series with the Rangers before the All-Star break.

We decided to attend the series finale and with the game being played on a Sunday afternoon, we had a pretty good idea of what we were in for since our seats were about seven rows up from the field and without shade.

Preparing for the heat and actually experiencing it are not the same. The temperature reached 96 degrees on the stadium scoreboard and it got so hot that White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen, who wore a wet towel draped over his shoulders, often stepped down from the top step of the dugout to seek some shade.

Naturally, the game was the Rangers’ second longest of the season. It took over four hours, which was good news for the beer ($6.25) and water ($4) vendors.

It had been a standing joke between my son and I that whenever we went to a game in Arlington the Rangers would lose. We always had a good time and he rarely left the park empty-handed, including the time he got an autograph from Mark Teixeira, but we wondered if we would ever see the Rangers win.

The odds weren’t in our favor since the White Sox were in first place in the American League Central, but the Rangers had been playing pretty good ball and we were looking forward to watching Josh Hamilton in person.

Hamilton didn’t get a hit - he swung under one pitch and popped it up to the warning track in right field - but he was about the only Texas player without a hit. Despite some nervous moments courtesy of reliever C.J. Wilson, the Rangers won, which along with the air conditioning in my car made the ride home an extremely pleasant one.

We had been watching the weather in San Francisco while we were in Dallas and were surprised to see temperatures in the 70s. Those temperatures were a distant memory by the time we joined my mother, brother and nephew for the Giants’ game against the Milwaukee Brewers.

I had seen AT&T Park on television and it was just as beautiful in person. On the ramp leading to our seats in the upper deck along the left-field line, there was a spectacular view of the city. Our seats looked out at San Francisco Bay, where Barry Bonds sent quite a few of his home runs.

I was bundled up in my hooded sweatshirt and jacket as I witnessed first-hand why the Brewers traded for C.C. Sabathia. He pitched a complete game and the Giants were overmatched, which was good news for a Dodgers fan.

The couple sitting next to me was from Spain and was attending its first baseball game while on its honeymoon and asked some interesting questions. The couple behind me was from Wisconsin and wasn’t shy about showing its allegiance despite the good-natured (I think) catcalls.

Neither my son nor I cared much for the much-ballyhooed garlic fries sold at the stadium and we were relieved whenever the wind died down. It was odd to look at the scoreboard and see final scores for most of the other games. I realized that it was past the Advocate’s deadline when the game ended shortly before 10 p.m.

During the game, my brother, who is an assistant district attorney in San Francisco, was visited by a friend, who works for the San Francisco police department. His friend does security for Major League Baseball and took my son and nephew to the press box.

They enjoyed the view and being out of the cold, which I suppose was justice in a way. I’m usually the one watching him from the warmth of the press box.

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