We've watched our son play baseball for eight years and we've seen all the ups and downs that go along with little league. Lifetime friendships have been made for both our son and for us. I've seen it all, bad calls that caused a loss, the thrill of that perfect critical strikeout, team party smiles, personal bests. Yet my favorite experience happened just last week and it brought me to tears. After two years of fundraising, broken promises, headaches, and heartaches, we finally reached the pinnacle of every little baseball boy's dreams, a trip to Cooperstown. We were at elimination day there and my husband and I were sitting by the playground on the hill overlooking field seven. I was stationed just behind my husband since I was with our three year old on the playground. His back was towards me as he sat on the bleachers watching the team warm up. I couldn't see his face but I knew how he felt, it was a feeling of perfect contentment. His joy of watching his baby boy get to play in the "Little Majors" was one that only other fathers in similar circumstances could understand. I took a picture of him staring out over the hill watching his son and then I started to cry. Any mom knows why. It was a perfect moment.
He's only seventeen and he runs like he's thirty.
—Casey Stengel, on why he kept Kranepool on the bench in 1962