Baseball was a way of life. Between my brother and I playing, Mom running the concession stand, and Dad coaching and umpiring, Winter Park Optimist was our second home. I can still hear the cheers from the sidelines, smell the freshly cut grass, and taste the sweat mixed with red clay. For the first eighteen years of my life, baseball was my identity. It was what I loved. You see, my dad was a great athlete growing up, but through a rare […]
