My love of baseball goes way back too. A Class D team in my small town, where on most nights there would be more people in the stands than lived in town. Three months of games, then the boys of summer would be gone. We couldn’t wait til next year!
At age nine I began work cleaning up a flower shop for ten cents an hour. The money made went into a dime bank. When I saved enough I bought my first mitt. It was to big for the hand, but I grew into it. I remember the joy of ownership like it was yesterday.