My Dad

The Diamondbacks had their first day off of the season today. This is also the first day I have had where I was not at or watching some type of baseball. Trina had banished me from the television deciding I had seen enough baseball that I could last 24 hours without a game. Today marks my father's sixtieth birthday. It is hard to believe that he is reaching retirement age in the next five years. In my eyes, he will always be a young man. I owe my father a lot. He has worked hard all of his life to provide for our family. Most of all though, he is the man that gave me my love of baseball. At a very early age, he bought me my first mitt and taught me how to throw and catch a baseball. He spent countless hours in the front yard helping me hone my baseball skills. Being hopelessly left-handed, I made it difficult for him to teach me. Dad made sure that once I had gathered enough skills that I was able to play tee ball to continue my development. When I became old enough for Little League, he again made sure I tried out. When the league was in danger of not fielding teams due to lack of coaches, my father volunteered his time to teach a bunch of nine year olds how to play the game. The first season we won our league championship and my father stayed in the league for nearly fifteen years coaching first his sons and countless other youth the game. From his teams rose several all-state players who went on to play high school and college ball even to the minor leagues. Those are the memories I have of my father. I am sure he had other things he would much rather have done than play ball with his son but his dedication to his family was the most important thing in his life. On this his birthday, I want to thank him and tell him that I love him for all that he has done for me in my life.