I get hyped up about football for some reason. I don’t understand half of the game, to be honest with you, and I still don’t know all the positions on the team or what each player is really supposed to do. Still, it’s fun following the Ravens. They’re a good team, and watching them play is exciting, especially when we’re with other friends who are football fans too.
With that said, I can’t get too upset after a big loss like tonight. It was a great season, and like all of the other teams (with the exception of the four that will advance to the championship series next weekend), we’ll analyze what we can do to make ourselves better next year.
Not a bad plan at all.
Baseball, though, is an entirely different obsession with me. I grew up playing the game, listening to the play-by-play with my dad every summer night, and playing catch with him in the back yard. Yesterday, my son and I went to Play It Again Sports to check out their equipment. On a whim, I checked their used mitts, and I found a great glove for $10 that fits me perfectly.
Baseball, like football, might be just a game. But when I’m in the back yard playing catch with my son, it’s something much, much bigger than watching our professional teams notch a win or a loss. It brings back the memories of being with my own dad, and I can imagine that, playing catch with me might have conjured up the same memories of times he had with his own father.
This is what I love: the linking of memories that are unquestionably meant to be passed along to our children.
I look forward to the warmer temps when we can get outside and throw the ball around. I think Braeden will get those memories, those times that I spent with Dad, even if he doesn’t realize it just yet. To him, it might just be a game of catch today, but when he gets older and plays catch with his own children, he may look back on these days and smile, knowing that the games we play together mean more than the games that any million-dollar ball player might suit up for on the big plasma screen…