If you go back to the edge of time, you can find it there on the corner of Ivy and 4th streets. You would need to look closely to see, but still, you could. Examining that old chain link fence, you would see the dents carved from 1973 where the ball struck there too many times. If you squinted in the afternoon sun, you could make out a baseball diamond, you could make out ghost shapes of kids now coalesced into adults. You would see him there winding back, ready to throw the baseball, gearing up for a curve ball, eyes scanning the horizon like a pendant winning dreamer. Yes, like the dreamer he was, the ball player he never quite became.
Is it too early for baseball? Maybe it is, but that’s the story I have in progress today. What is your favorite baseball story? All baseball tidbits are welcome as I plow through this one.