When my sisters and I were growing up, my father loved to spend time with us in the back yard (and later at the local school diamond) playing baseball. We never used a softballs, always baseballs. My dad had been a stand-out baseball pitcher and catcher for his high school during the World War II. He had hoped to play professional baseball but his dreams and elbow were shattered by a bullet while serving on the aircraft carrier Bon Homme Richard in the Pacific. Frankly, I also think the wear and tear of pitching also left him some serious rotator cuff issues, as he had a difficult time throwing very far as he got older.
When I was a child I wanted to play baseball, like my dad, who was a catcher and pitcher in high school but whose dreams of playing professionally ended during World War II. I went on to be a softball catcher, and one of my sons was also a catcher. With spring arriving, the thoughts of boys - and now, girls - turn once again to baseball.
