Summertime in Manitoba as a kid meant: baseball, baseball and more baseball…by Chuck Duboff

Just reread this…and it lit a spark inside me…this was my life as a kid…and as an adult…and though I allowed someone to take this summer’s enjoyment from me…rereading this piece I wrote back in early June, sent a thunderbolt through me…it’s time to welcome back my true first love, baseball; we may have been separated for awhile, but this is a marriage that will last till I am food for worms!! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: LET’S PLAY BALL!!!!

Chuck's Eclectic Blog.

 

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© Chuck Duboff

Other than the rough patches of green grass, my memories of playing ball as a kid are all in black and white.  We tend to embellish our memories, whether in a positive or negative manner; in my mind, playing baseball on the dusty, patchy, rocky, and worn base path field, was like being in heaven.

As a kid, watching and playing baseball was my life.  Whether it was playing catch with dad or with our neighbour Rube, creating my own game throwing the ball against a wall, playing my own major league schedule with a marble game I had invented (of course the Yankees always won the World Series), pitching to my little brother Neil, watching Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Whitey Ford, Yogi Berra and the New York Yankees on Saturday afternoon, studying my baseball cards till I knew the batting averages of even the…

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