Playing Catch with Dad
I know this is supposed to be about batting and batting helmets, but here’s a cute little story about Dad’s and kids.
There is something amazing about ones first baseball glove. If you met me, you’d probably not expect me to be a very huge fan of baseball. The simple truth is, I’m not very athletic, and I have never been very athletic. I am really an egghead in reality. I love math, chess, along with video gaming. As a matter of fact, on your typical day I am more prone to enjoy a baseball video game rather than play catch. Nonetheless, there is something about my baseball glove that makes it so valued to me that words aren’t able to capture it: the bond it gave me to my father.
The thing is that, playing catch is something which fathers and sons were doing in this nation for generations, and it’s also something that they’ll carry on doing for several more years. A baseball glove is really a means for a small kid to bond with his dad. My father was a pretty typical American dad. He was kind of private and stern, and had a really hard time expressing his thoughts. Whenever we went outdoors together and played catch with our baseball mitts, however, I realized how much I meant to him. Baseball gloves – and baseball generally speaking is designed for that. I know it can bring families together who might struggle to talk as readily otherwise.
My dad recognized that I did not plan to be on any baseball team and, to his credit, he never pressured me to join. All I wished to do was to play catch with him and go around, as well as occasionally shoot hoops with my guys. My own boy is a lot different as compared to I was during that age. He relishes nearly anything and everything that has to do with athletics, and I don’t fully understand exactly where he got it from. Never the less, when I bought him his very first baseball glove, he looked at me with the exact same look of happiness that I afforded my own father when he got me one. At that time, I realized that he really was and really my son, and I was his father.
We’d play catch seven days a week that summer, him with his brand new, shiny baseball glove, and myself with my aged, worn down one. It was usually a silent time, nonetheless it was without exception a lot of fun. I do believe that it may have been the best summer since when I was a kid.
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