Baseball, America’s pastime. The national game.
I am a self admitted sports fiend. I love to watch sporting events. I liked to play in the yard with friends as I was growing up. Football, soccer, baseball, we played it all. I did try a single season of baseball as a kid, lets just say I was not an all-star and leave it at that. The one sport I cannot get into playing is basketball. But this is not about basketball, it’s about baseball.
Our little guy has been playing baseball for a while now (see previous posts HERE and HERE) and is actually pretty good at it. I have watched him get better and better as he continues to play and get older. I have been waiting for the day where he and I can just play catch together. Just him and I.
My wait is finally over. And it was EVERYTHING I hoped it would be.
So on Saturday over this past weekend, the little guy came in from playing with his friends a little upset. It turns out one of the friends and he were not quite seeing eye to eye on the game they were playing and he came in. I told him that if the friend exhibits that behavior again, just tell him to stop, if he doesn’t, then tell the friend he got a warning and stop playing with him. Then I asked if he wanted to go out and throw the baseball and football. He said yes.
We went out to parking lots and just the two of us started to throw the ball. Now I am sure that we have thrown together before, but this was different. We shared a moment. And I LOVED every second of it. It was just the two of us and we were having a pretty darn good time. New Mom eventually came out and joined us and we formed a triangle and threw back and forth to each other. It was a great family bonding moment, no phones, no television, no video game, just outside in the fresh air, throwing to each other. I have mentioned perfect moments in previous posts, this was another one of those.
Eventually we switched to playing with the football together and those aforementioned friends came wandering over and a game of parking lot football broke out. The friend apologized to our little guy for his previous behavior and just like that all was forgiven and play resumed (oh the lessons we can learn from children).
Later in the weekend, I was helping draw the little guy a bath, and we were talking about throwing together. I explained how much it meant to me to be able to do it together with him. I also explained that I don’t ever remember throwing with my own father (he worked a TON to make sure we were provided for, and over the weekends, he was often at the golf course). The little guys response: ‘That’s really sad, dad.’ I do not ever want that to be him. (note, my dad and I may have thrown together, but I have no memories of playing catch with him.)
Its funny though, one of my fondest memories with my dad was much later in life and revolved around what? Baseball. In 2005 we went to Cooperstown New York to the Baseball hall of fame to see our favorite Cub (Ryne Sandberg) inducted to the hall. It is a weekend that I will remember forever.
I know one day I will return to those hallowed halls with my own son, and he and I will make memories of our own together.
Baseball may not be the most popular sport these days (football is king in the ratings and popularity) but it has an almost magical quality about it. There is something sacred about the game and way it can bring a father and son together. Whether it is going to see your favorite player be enshrined to the Hall of Fame or just to play a little catch in a parking lot.