We took our son to his first baseball game on Father’s Day, heading over to New Britain Stadium to watch the AA Rock Cats take on the Trenton Thunder.
We took our daughter, Clara, to her first baseball game at this same stadium when she was almost two years old, but she was barely cognizant of the game. She napped through most of it and played with toys for the rest.
Charlie, by contrast, could easily be directed to the action on the field. He would stare intently, watching pitches pop in the catcher’s mitt and home runs sail over the fences.
I think he liked it.
My parents never took me to a baseball game as a child. They never even taught me how to play the game. I’m a left-hander who plays baseball right-handed because I was given a hand-me-down baseball mitt for a right-handed player when I was a kid, and no instruction whatsoever.
Given the equipment, I had no choice but to learn to play with my non-dominant hand. As a result, it took me a long time to learn to hit the baseball well, and I still can’t throw a baseball.
I look ridiculous even trying.
I will spare my children these indignities by teaching them the game and providing them with the correct equipment.
I look forward to the day when we can play catch in the backyard.
Hopefully, that process began on Father’s Day.
