Baseball season is upon us! I grew up going to countless baseball games as a kid. Justin played from the time he was 5 and my Dad was always his coach. The dirty and dusty fields of American Indian Little League hold many memories threaded throughout my childhood. I remember Justin playing T-Ball on the smaller field for two years and then graduating up to the 'real fields' a few years later. I can see the canvas bag my Dad would pick up at the beginning of every season along with that years team uniform and hats. A perk of being the coaches son was that you always got your favorite number (12) unless for some reason that year your number wasn't in your size (happened once!). Dance drop off and pick up always had to be carefully planned out with the weeks practice and games. For years my family rarely ate dinner together. Rather eating in shifts when you got home (with one parent and Andrea) after your activity. I met many friends at the field. Many were friends from school or just had a brother on the team. Dad was the coach you wanted your son to have. Not always the best team, but the most patient and one that always had a kind word of encouragement to go along with an offer of advice in how to do something better. Palmdale is notorious for wind...many nights were spent wrapped up in a huge blanket with Andrea on a cold metal bench watching Justin and Dad. So many of my childhood moments are held on a baseball field.
Cash now loves the sport. And my watching has shifted from older sister to proud Mama. He is so serious when he plays. Getting into his fielding position, patiently waiting for the ball to lop his way. He has learned this year that if it doesn't look like it is coming his way, he will hold back, opting to stay out of the dog pile that ensues. This will be his last year of T-Ball and I am sure many memories will be held on a new baseball field next year, for Clara and us.
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