Take me out to the ball game

Yesterday at a park I saw a boy walking to a baseball diamond. Over a shoulder the boy carried a long bag, presumably with his baseball equipment – his favorite bat or bats, glove, batting glove and whatever else makes up a boy’s baseball needs these days.

“My first year in Little League,” I said to Priscilla, “the coach had a red and white 1957 Ford convertible, with white leather interior. On out-of-town games those of us not carried by parents piled in the car, and away we went, 80mph and the top down. Not a seat belt even in anybody’s imagination.”

Priscilla said, “And I don’t remember ever reading about a Little League team wiped out from a car crash.”

I don’t either. I do remember speed and wind blowing and the roar of the V-Eight Ford when the coach needed some power for passing or just for speeding up a little more.