For the second straight night, Emrie and I made a lengthy road trip. Tonight it was north to watch my eight year old nephew play baseball. He and his twin sister celebrated their birthday so we thought we pay them a visit.
The ironic part of the trip was that he played at the same baseball complex I did when I was his age. You see, we lived in Fairfield, Ohio for six months when I was Austin’s age [my nephew]. It was a horrible experience for the entire family but the one highlight was having the ballpark within walking distance from our house. I remember being an eager eight year old watching the “big boys” play Babe Ruth ball under the lights.
But I must tell you, it was a weird feeling to return to a park that I hadn’t visited in over twenty years. So much had changed over the past twenty plus years, but then again nothing really had. The diamonds were just as I remembered them though the fences appeared worn and the scoreboards aged. The basketball courts were full of energetic teenagers, just as I remembered, though their apparel was a little strange. The park was still recognized by the same name. The same sounds of bat on ball and screaming, over- zealous parents could be heard. And yes, the same “win at any cost” coaches had never left.
I was reminded tonight that things change but so much never does.