When I was a little boy in Montpelier, Idaho, the friend I probably played with the most was redheaded Jeremy Peterson who was my same age and lived directly across the street.
We had many good time together, Jeremy and me, but there was one striking difference that grew only more striking as we aged: Only one of us was a sports guy.
So Jeremy would come home from Little League practice (he was brought up from Pee-Wee early; I abandoned Pee Wee early) and would want to teach me fielding skills.
"Grab it like it's a bag of candy!" he would shout. "Throw it away like it's a bomb!"
I had a hard time getting into it. I missed being cowboys and shooting our cap guns.
Anyway, the years pass--twenty-plus--and I become a father with a preternaturally talented sports guy for a first child.
now his thing is baseball, but he also shows the knack for football,
hockey, basketball, soccer and golf*. And today he got to go visit the Dude and he insisted
on bringing his bat and ball.
But here's the thing: the Dude doesn't get the whole it's-candy-/-it's-a-bomb thing. So I feel for him. His friend's coming over and all the guy wants to do is play baseball.
Why don't we play trains anymore???
Ah, those halcyon days of choochoos....
I hope they're having a good time.