It is every young boy’s dream to become a professional athlete when he gets older. For me, it was baseball.
Baseball wasn’t merely a game or a sport that I idolized — it was a lifestyle and passion. My every thought, action, and breath involved the innocent bliss that baseball offered.
I loved the sound of the bat connecting with the ball, the smell of the freshly cut grass, and the feel of lathering up a new baseball and getting ready to throw a pitch.
Baseball was my paradise, my escape, and the foundation of my biggest dreams.
At my elementary school graduation, we were told to write down what we aspired to be when we got older. Most boys my age said an athlete. I tried to hide my desire and said pediatrician, but who was I kidding? Secretly, I didn’t even know what a pediatrician was. I, too, wanted to be an athlete.
Not just an athlete, but a professional baseball player.
I wanted to hear my name announced as I walked to the plate in front of a sold-out stadium. I wanted to connect on a fastball and line it into the gap, taking a wide turn around first and sliding into second, popping up to see the umpire sig...
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