I remember as a kid, getting on my bike, hooking my glove to those old rounded and curved handle bars, jamming my bat under the banana seat and wedging a baseball in between the frame of the forks and the upper bar. Then peddling as fast as I could to the nearby field, school or open area and joining my buddies for a game of sandlot baseball. That’s right, just like the movie, The Sandlot. Spending hot, sunny summer days running, hitting, throwing, catching, making up silly rules as the each game had an effect on your team’s outcome.
These days never appeared to end; they were days that seemingly made summers feel like there was no end in sight. It was what we lived for all day, then, dash home, get some food, change out of your grass stained, dirt covered street clothes and throw on your team's uniform and head to the yard for a structured, do it this way, don’t think for yourself game.