[Seasons: Summer XXV]
Baseball and summer go hand-in-hand. Home runs, all stars, and sliding into home plate all hold a special place in my memory, but no of them stand out like “playing” on my big brother’s team.
I was five or six years old—too young for little league in the 80’s—and I was watching my older brother play. Mom allowed me to wear a uniform while she coached and sit in the dugout. (Did you catch that? My mom coached boys baseball!) It dawned on me that though I was next to the players, close to the field, and even chewing on a mouth full of Big League Chew, I was not really playing. The difference between me and the actually players on the field became obvious: they were dirty and I was not. My solution was to sit on the ground instead of the bench and cover my white baseball pants with dirt. The more dirt I rubbed the more authentic I felt. I was one of the big kids! A real baseball player.
As an adult, every time I use my pants to wipe my hands clean of farm dirt, I think of that time I “played” on my brother’s team.
Nowadays baseball memories, summer, and dirty farm pants go hand-in-hand. I haven’t stepped foot on a diamond in 20 years, but baseball still shapes my experience of summer. What are the memories you’re making right now that will help you best experience the seasons of life in 20 and 30 years?
