Losing a Fan

I can directly trace my love of baseball back to my maternal grandparents. I can vividly remember sitting between my grandmother and grandfather watching baseball on television. We lived in rural Idaho and the nearest Major League Baseball stadium was over 1,000 miles away but every Saturday we would be glued to the television watching the NBC Game of the Week. My grandparents would take turns teaching me the various nuances of baseball and instilled upon me that this was more than a game, it was the national pastime interwoven with our lives.

When I became old enough to play ball myself my grandparents would rarely miss a game. And regardless of how well or how poorly I played they were there to encourage me and gently coach me to become a better player. I could not ask for two more loving role models and ambassadors of the game than my grandparents. While other kids turned their attention to football or basketball my love was always baseball. The names of the games greats were engrained in my psyche as a result of one generation passing on their passion to another.

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