A Boy And His First Bat And Ball

I tell you without hesitation that we have done NOTHING different between raising the girls and The Big Beef (as he's known).  And being a boy has something in his DNA in that he is magically drawn to balls.  Like any size ball.  Basketballs, baseballs, volleyballs.  It doesn't matter.  He wants to get his hands on sports balls and has a joyous look when he gets them.  This photo above is after I bought him his first ball and bat.  This *seems* like a seminal moment in a boy's life.  And a big moment between a father and son.  His first baseball.  It isn't a mitt.  That comes later.  But this is still big.

I have so many fond memories of having a catch with my dad.  We usually threw the ball back and forth over on a patch of grass at the end of our cul-de-sac.  I still remember him getting down into the catchers crotch and having me practice pitching to him only to skip in a bunch of heaters that inevitably ended up cracking him right in the shins.  He'd yelp in pain, but always get back down and catch even more errant throws.

I can only hope that this moment - when Frankie got his first ball and bat - will lead to the creation of a bunch of strong memories in his head.  Like I have in mine.  I never loved baseball.  I was drawn to basketball and soccer much stronger.  Might have been the 'politics' of Little League that turned me off a bit.  But nothing really mattered, because each Spring, I'd pull on the stirrups and break out my mitt and have a ball with my teammates.  I know Frank's cousins adore sports and a couple of them really are into baseball.   I look forward to taking Frankie to see them play and when he's ready...I can't wait to buy him his first REAL mitt.  (not one of those plastic toy ones!).