And it finally comes to a close.
When my son was about two years old, we were at his Godmother's house. While playing with his Uncle Max ball, Uncle Max mentioned his good aim.
Around that same time, we noticed our son's strength when he swung a stick at his Elmo piñata. While all the other kids were close to traumatised that their beloved Sesame Street character was being hit, my son continued without hesitation.
Baseball runs in my son's blood. Not from my DNA, but my wife. Although, I did play street ball in the neighborhood cul-de-sac when I was young, but I never did play little league or in school.
We decided to sign our son up for baseball last summer to play in the fall (off season). I captured his first hit and quickly posted it on my facebook page. Since then, I have been recording almost all his games.
When he is out on the field, he plays the game with much attention. He's focused. He learns from mistakes. He gets the game.
So it is a bit sad to see the season come to an end.