The Player...

I had no doubts about being a professional ball player. My mother and father were extremely supportive of me chasing that dream. It was countless games of little league, high school and amateur baseball. It was countless hours of training, hitting and driving to small towns all over America. I even flirted with professional baseball and it kept the fire burning for a long time.

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Life choices....not my playing ability, kept me from fulfilling the ultimate dream-turned-goal. The choice to be a father to my baby boy was the ultimate decision to make.  Call it arrogance, call it fate, but one could be a better father to my children. I wore my fatherhood badge proud and the reward was seeing the best thing I have ever created by my side.

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I loved baseball, still do to this day. My two sons accompanied me during my "Old Man League" days. They loved the game as just as much as I, though I never pushed them in any way to follow in my footsteps.  I suppose it was a way to protect them from heartbreak that the game gives. A 'full count' of politics, failures and bigotry, isn't well suited for those not prepared for the grind. If I didn't excel in the martial arts, I don't believe I would have possessed the mental fortitude for the rigors of baseball. Having something you've worked hard most of your youth to achieve, just to have it slip through your fingers. It is definitely a hard pill to swallow.

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Many players share the same story. These stories, are all too familiar for those who           lacked the will or the opportunities to make it to the Bigs.