Once my life revolved around playing baseball for a few months, then playing football for a few months, and then playing basketball for a few months. Then there’s the local public swimming pool for the few remaining people. Do some yard work, go on a bike ride, find a pond to fish in, or a small stream to catch some wandering animals to while away the rest of the time. The outside is our distraction. I am 46 years old and just like everyone else my age, this is a story of our youth.
I loved working out (still do) and my dad was my biggest supporter. Whatever the sport, he was my teacher (did it as best as he could). My fondest memories are of us spending time together in our backyard hitting the tee and practicing throwing. I can still clearly see the strike zone he constructed out of a sheet of plywood with the zone cut out and a piece of old carpet hanging behind him to stop any strikes being made. He will count the total pitches thrown and the total hits taken to give us the hitting percentage. I also have strong memories of us being on the local school field and him taking batting practice and playing pepper for hours. Like many people, he was a big reason for instilling a love for the game and helping me grow.
One day I was looking for something and opened a box filled with memorabilia. Newspaper clippings (yes, we’re old) from when I played in Taiwan and Japan, lanyards from AAA All Star games I once played in, baseball cards, etc. Things you forget but when you find them, they give you wonderful memories to cherish. This game has given me many memories that I will be forever grateful for.
After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I packed it up and put it back together. As I put it away to collect more dust, I realized that my kids had never seen the thing (and that’s okay). We have three children, ages 21, 19, and soon to be 16, and my two oldest are still young at the end of my career. They got to see Dad play briefly, but they were too young to remember those memories. To them I am just “Dad” and that is what I want.
I’ve learned that the personal accomplishments I have in the game, unfortunately, don’t matter when it comes to being a parent. All those promotions, wins, trophies, rings, article clippings, baseball cards, and statistics pale in comparison to raising children. That said, many of the mental and character skills I had to learn as an athlete have definitely carried over.
Parenting can be one of the hardest and most rewarding jobs in life. At least that’s how I feel about it. With two teenage boys and a daughter trying to become young adults, the process from one phase to the next is a continuous learning process not only for them but also for us as their parents.
These games not only give us memories but can help prepare us for the much more important things in life.