Posted in Life


My two grandsons brought all their baseball equipment to my house on Monday. Baseball and t-ball were starting soon, and they needed to practice. They had two bags full of bats, gloves, hats, and balls. “We have to practice!

We started out playing catch. Then we switched to hitting whiffle balls. The windows were too close for hitting real baseballs. Yes, we hit some windows and fouled a few balls over the fence. Both boys – ages 7 and 4 – did really well.

That morning brought back memories of playing catch with my dad in our back yard. He still had his old glove from college, one barely bigger than his hand. Mine was newer, larger, and much easier to catch with. Dad always claimed that his was fine, as long as you caught with both hands. I knew I’d never be happy using a glove like his.

The memories of playing catch with dad are as vivid as ever. It’s such a simple activity, yet it bonds father and son in a special way. You’ve got dad’s undivided attention. You can talk about all kinds of things when you’re playing catch. You sharpen your skills. Once in a while you show off how hard you can throw.

As I got older, I played lots of catch with my brother and neighborhood friends. We played a lot of pitcher catcher, run the bases, and shagging fly balls out in the field beyond my back yard. But it was never as much fun as playing catch with dad.

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