Last Christmas, Santa
spent close to $300 on a new bat for Clare, but the bat had hardly any hits in
it. So, Santa had to go out and buy a
replacement soon after the season ended in April. He will not be putting any bats good or bad
under the tree this year.
Clare started hitting
before she was four years old, which upset any notions of gender-appropriate
toys. Through a system of trial and
error, we learned that our daughter liked girl stuff-girl stuff-BASEBALL-girl
stuff. Gloves were to be leather from
Rawlings, the doll pretty from American Girl.
So, the die cast airplanes were a bust, and Daddy’s old Lionel train set
was, in the long run, Daddy’s.
Molly, the American
Girl doll, always looked sharp dressed in her baseball uniform, complete with
cap, spikes, bat and glove. The four of
us—husband, wife, daughter, doll—drove to Cooperstown the summer Clare was ten,
following her second appearance as a Mustang Baseball all-star. I have a picture of Clare and Molly sitting
in the stands at Doubleday Field. Talk
about your number three and four hitters.
There’s talk about a
return visit to Cooperstown next summer, not Christmas but a graduation gift. Maybe Molly will join us.
No comments:
Post a Comment