Maddie's Mission

Take me out to the ball game, Take me out with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack, I don't care if I never get back, Let me root, root, root for the home team, If they don't win it's a shame. For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out, At the old ball game. I can’t recall if it was the smell of freshly cut grass or the unique sound made when a baseball meets a wood bat, but as we climbed the stairs onto the field it was clear that this was a day to remember. Like most boys my age in California, I never heard of lacrosse, rugby, or that crazy sport those Europeans call football. I played baseball. Whether it was an organized community game, a pickup game before school at St. Angela’s, Over the Line with my two brothers at the park, or the non-stop two-seam fastballs that hit the garage door over and over and over, I loved the game. As a young kid my heroes were Davey Lopes, Steve Garvey, and Ron Cey. I remember sitting in the stands above Ch...