I have a video tape of my little family at Christmas the year my son was two. He was so excited over the Christmas tree lights and the decorations, he was running in tight little circles and screaming with glee. It is the funniest thing to watch and one of my fondest memories.
His father was running the video camera as my daughter and I trimmed the tree. My son tried several times to throw one of the decorative tree ornaments to his father. He did not quite know how to throw, and each ball fell behind him. After several tries, he threw them straight at his father. It was the documented beginning of my son's stellar athletic career. Sniff, sniff! It makes me so emotional!
When he was older, my son and I played catch. I would throw the ball as high as I could so he could dive for the catch. He enjoyed that. We also played burn-out, even though by then I was not the athlete I had once been. My son started right out pitching in Little League, and the games of burn-out came to an abrupt end because he could win with one throw! He had a great fast ball. His money pitch would come in sizzlin' and dip low on the outside corner of the plate. He struck out so many kids with that naturally sinking pitch. I do not know how he did it, but it was killer!
He pitched many, many innings of baseball when he was a little guy. After we moved to Spirit Creek Farm, I continued to drive him into to Topeka for practice and for games. He played baseball so much that pitching became second nature to him.
He woke one morning to discover a mouse in his room. From his bed, he grabbed a baseball and threw a slammin' fast ball at the mouse, killing it instantly.
Wonder how many Big Leaguers have a killer pitch like that on their resume?