“I think baseball season is the best!” my son exclaimed from the backseat as we drove home from school. I kept my focus on the road, trying to act casual, but inside, I was bursting with excitement.
I’ve never wanted to pressure my children into loving baseball like I do. My father took a similar approach with me—he allowed my passion for the game to grow organically. When I finally embraced it, he nurtured that interest in various ways. He took me to games, taught me how to keep score, and even left me notes with game results to read in the morning when I had to go to bed before the end of night games. Those late-night Mets games were especially crucial.
Because of this, I’ve never forced baseball on my kids, yet they’ve certainly been surrounded by it. With each new Opening Day, it’s clear they’ve absorbed my enthusiasm for the sport.
This year was particularly special as my son, now 8, expressed his excitement about baseball on his own, without any prompting from me.
When I was his age, the Mets clinched the World Series title. They haven’t won since. Each Opening Day carries with it the hope that this might finally be the year they break their streak, mixed with a tinge of wistfulness.
My childhood hero was player Mark Rivers, the catcher who symbolized optimism during my formative baseball years. He was a pivotal figure in that championship team and inspired me to become a catcher in Little League. It’s strange to think that I’m now the same age he was when people deemed him past his prime.
Sadly, Rivers passed away too soon in early 2012, just shy of his 60th birthday. Before his untimely diagnosis with brain cancer, he was busy managing Minor League and college teams, aspiring to return to the majors as a manager—a dream he never got to fulfill.
That’s why I tune into Opening Day each year, a mix of nostalgia and melancholy washing over me as I see his former teammates being introduced. I often find myself wishing I could witness my childhood idol on the field again, unlike many of my peers who still get to see their heroes taking on new challenges in their later years.
But as the excitement of Opening Day approaches, I can’t help but feel hopeful. My son has so much ahead of him as a baseball fan. With any luck, this could be the year the Mets bring home a championship, allowing him to experience the same joy I did at his age.
I’ll make sure to fill him in over breakfast about any games he missed due to school bedtime. I’ll take him to games and teach him the art of scorekeeping. And of course, I’ll share all the stories about Mark Rivers.
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In conclusion, nurturing a love for baseball in your children can be a rewarding experience, especially when approached with patience and enthusiasm. As we share our experiences and memories, we help create new traditions and lasting bonds.
Keyphrase: Kids Love Baseball
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