"My dad taught me to switch-hit. He and my grandfather, who was left-handed, pitched to me everyday after school in the back yard. I batted lefty against my dad and righty against my granddad" ~ Mickey Mantle
At times it can be difficult in it's simplicity. It has moments of ecstasy that have no equals. It always gives more than it is ever willing to take. It requires patience, patience, and at times, more patience. The rewards are never-ending, the disappointments--expected. And sometimes if we allow ourselves, our gratitude will spill over into tears.
Certain things have a way of bringing together a father and son. For every man who took in a baseball game with dad, you know exactly what I mean. Then there are the words every kid loves to hear from their ol' man, "go grab your mitt." It can only mean one thing: time to throw around the ball with 'pops'. In a little over one month, my son and I have spent more time together alone than I believe we spent alone all last year. We did it all playing baseball. I truly believe baseball is God's gift to fathers. It's God's way of saying: "Now you have no excuses." If you're a dad who finds himself crunched for time, take your kid outside and throw around the ball for awhile. If that's not an option, perhaps taking him to a ball game would be more ideal. Try not to think about getting work done or catching up on emails. Try to think about that little person. That little impressionable mind who always looks up to you.