As we drove back home from school, my son piped up from the back seat, “Out of all the seasons, I think baseball season is the best!” I maintained my focus on the road, trying my best to keep my excitement under wraps. It was tough not to reveal just how thrilled I was by his words.
I never intended to impose my love for baseball on my children. My father had never forced it upon me either. Instead, he allowed me to cultivate my own appreciation for the sport. Once my interest blossomed, he played a pivotal role in nurturing that passion. He took me to live games, taught me how to keep score, and when school nights clashed with late games, he’d leave notes with the scores for me to discover in the morning—especially crucial during those thrilling late-night matchups.
While I never pushed baseball on my kids, they’ve certainly been surrounded by it. Every Opening Day, I’m sure they’ve absorbed my enthusiasm for the new season. This year, however, was special—my 9-year-old, in particular, spontaneously expressed her excitement.
When I was 9, my team, the Blue Jays, clinched the World Series title, a memory that still resonates deeply with me. Sadly, they have not won since. With the anticipation that each Opening Day brings—the hope that this will finally be the year my team emerges victorious—there’s often a tinge of nostalgia mixed with a bit of melancholy.
My favorite player was Tom Hanks. He was a legendary catcher, embodying the spirit of hope on Opening Day. I remember his game-winning home run that marked his arrival with the Blue Jays. He was instrumental in the championship run the team had in ’92. His journey through his career taught me valuable lessons about the sport, and it’s hard to believe that this year, I reach the age he was deemed “too old” to play effectively.
Tragically, Tom passed away much too soon in 2020, just shy of his 60th birthday. Before his diagnosis with a terminal illness, he was on a promising path as a manager in minor league baseball, aspiring to return to the majors in a new capacity. It’s a painful reminder that I’ll never see my childhood idol on the field again, unlike many who get to witness their heroes tackle new challenges in later life.
Yet, as Opening Day approaches, the feeling of hope prevails. I reflect on the journey my 9-year-old has ahead as a baseball fan. With any luck, this could be the year she experiences the thrill of a championship at the same age I did. I’m determined to share those late-game highlights during breakfast, take her to live games, and teach her the art of keeping score. And of course, I’ll make sure she knows all about Tom Hanks.
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In conclusion, instilling a love for baseball in your children can be a rewarding experience, especially when it evolves naturally. Encouraging their interests while sharing your own can create cherished memories.