baseball dads

Baseball dads - everyone who has ever played has them. The one's who bought your first glove, bat, and ball. The one's who played catch with you on a Saturday. And the one's who coached you, not necessarily because they were experts on the game, but because they just wanted to be there. Whatever the case may be, they all deserve a big thank you.

I can recall my dad throwing a plastic ball to me while I did my best in my uncoordinated kindergarten days to hit it with a plastic bat. Or the 5am wake up calls in high school to go take batting practice before school started. And the years he spent coaching me.

Most major moments in my life can in some way, shape or form, be traced back to baseball. Birthdays were always spent at a Blue Jay game. I'm sure bar mitzvahs would have been to if I was Jewish. I can probably tell you what I was doing every time the Blue Jays won anything of significance. And the one common thread through all of them has been my dad. He was there for all of them.

So, thank you dad. Thanks for the bat, the ball, the glove, and the memories.