I played catch with my son today for the first time.
I can’t believe I waited so long to do it. Drew is 4 and a half. This is kind of a big deal to me, because I grew up playing baseball. We played games in our neighborhood all summer, in the vacant lot three doors down from our house, right next to the neighbor’s cow barn (shallow right) and the cow pasture (deep left). I did Little League, too, wasn’t very good at it, but have fond memories of riding my three-speed bike to the games, glove hooked on my left handlebar.
I used that same, 30-year-old glove tonight as I helped Drew learn to use his new Franklin glove.
The kid is good! He tossed a couple good heaters my way, along with quite a few, ah, long balls. And he made a couple nice catches, including one he managed to trap with his cheek and shoulder somehow. That one led to a few tears (he was tired from swimming today), but he kept at it.
I think this playing catch thing could become a habit…