I don't think I can ever watch the end of the movie, "Field of Dreams", when Kevin Costner asks his father, "Hey, Dad? You want to have a catch?" without breaking down and bawling like a baby.
Britton and I played (and AJ watched) in a Father/Son Baseball tournament in Phoenix, Arizona last week in what (with apologies to Iowa) heaven is suppose to be like. There was unlimited sunflower seed spitting, scratching, butt-slapping, more spitting, and the grabbing and adjusting any part of your body, with unfettered joy.
We played a double-header (two 9-inning games, for the less enlightened. By the way, I wonder where that term ever originated?) on Thursday, and then on Friday we played another double-header. Thirty-six innings of baseball in less than 24 hours!
It was Nirvana!
We won our first game, and lost the remaining 3 games. Saturday we could barely move. I caught all nine innings of the first game (in 98 degree desert heat) and have 3 new bruises in spots that will be difficult to explain to my wife. We are slightly heat exhausted, battered like baby seals, and move "slower than cold molasses through a straw" (Britton's terminology).
Man...that was fun!
