Source: www.halosheaven.com --- Friday, January 12, 2018
My earliest memories of Baseball are pretty standard: catch with dad, games on the radio, grandfathers and uncles telling me about players of yesteryear. I started t-ball and worked my way up the Baseball ladder to Little League and was the bat boy for my dad’s rec league softball teams year after year. Growing up in a small farming town, Baseball was the soundtrack of summer. A game was on the radio in nearly every truck or tractor I rode in as a child and later drove as a teenager and adult. Kids would congregate at the park for makeshift games. Like most Baseball fans, I mark my personal timeline with Baseball milestones and vice a versa. I know exactly where I was when countless moments happened. And who I was with. My t-ball coach was my childhood best friend’s dad. I remember countless games of pickle with him and his brothers in the front yard. We broke a window at their home so often the dad simply boarded it up until we hit our teenage years. A couple of summers back that friend called me with an extra ticket to Dodgers / Angels with his dad. I was busy, but cleared the day. The dad passed away last year and I thought about how thankful I was to have that last day at the ballpark with him. And how fitting that was the last time I spent with my very first coach. In the dugout of my dad’s softball games I was given high fives and treated like one of the guys. It felt so cool to feel like grown up. After countless softball ...
from Baseball http://ift.tt/2mpmXh8
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