"Crack" the sound of the ball hitting the back takes me back to other games and other times. The memories are as clear as day... I have spent half of my adult life in the baseball bleachers. My oldest played baseball from the time he was 4 until he hung up his bag for the last time at 18. There is nothing as special as a game of baseball.
"Here we go, Cody! Bat to the ball... quick hands..." I said the same time every time he was up to bat. Baseball is a superstitious sport... I had to sit the same way, say the same things... every time he was up to bat. When he pitched, I had the same type of cheers, "Use your legs, you got this..." over and over again.
"Great game, Cody! Wow you really smacked that ball!" or maybe "I know today wasn't your day, let's practice your swing... maybe you need to hit the cage?" These were typical conversations we had after every game. Him with his huge bag, and me with my chair and snack bag ambling along for a post-game chat some of them were happy, and others were filled with commiserating or advice-giving.
"You want a hot dog for breakfast? That's kinda gross"... "I get a hit every time I hit a hot dog. Can you make one?" For an entire season, he ate hot dogs before every game no matter the time. I cooked more hot dogs than I did any other type of food!
Baseball was a great sport for my oldest. It taught him many things... lessons learned that will carry him through the rest of his life. He will have countless memories of all the time spent on the field, on the road, or after the game. I am glad that I spent all my weekends at the ball field... I know now that they were time well spent. I didn't realize at the time how special it was... if I had only known!