My
daughter has always hustled, on the base paths, in the field and
elsewhere. She spent all of yesterday
supervising a youth baseball tournament at an area high school. She interned there when she was at Elmhurst,
and they liked her enough to call her back all the time to help with their
sports program. This is how connections
are made in life.
The
wind-burned lass came home to a dinner of pizza before taking her seat on the
couch. First was the Alabama-Washington
game, then UCLA-Oregon; she was able to follow the earlier softball playoff
games on an app. Anyway, there was a
half-hour gap between games, and wouldn’t you know it, the MLB Network was
playing “A League of Their Own.”
Not
only has Clare seen this movie often enough to recite the dialogue, she’s ready
to incorporate Tom Hanks’ coaching style into her own. Nearly two generations separate us, and yet
my daughter is more “old school” than you can imagine. Really, sometimes I don’t know if it’s her or
Ty Cobb talking. It’s a safe bet that any
Clare-coached team is going to be known for pop-up slides and brush backs.
Ah, she makes the old
man proud.
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