I fell in love with a high school baseball player. I fell in love with his pinstriped pants, his competitive spirit, and his curly long hair. I fell in love with the way he would look at me when he rounded third and when the game outcome was not what he wanted, how he would hold my hand without talking.
Fast forward 30 years, I’m still in love with that baseball player that now is the coach. I still love him in pinstripe pants, his competitive spirit, and his hair, that is not as long or curly anymore. I still love the way he looks at me from the third base coaching box and how he holds my hand after a game.
I spend almost half of every year at the ballpark cheering for other people’s boys. I have loved every one of them and fed them more pancakes and team dinners than I can count.
So I will be writing about the time I spend, the lessons I learn and what baseball means to me here. But for now, I am off to the ballfield to cheer for the good guys wearing blue and gold.