The grass is greener, the sky is bluer and spring is in the air. And if you’re anything like me that only means one thing: Baseball season is in full swing. Flashback about 14 years or so, and picture me a wild-eyed 9-year-old who could not wait to get on the field named after my granddaddy, Spanky Bruce, for opening day of city league baseball. As a kid, opening day of baseball was a lot like Christmas, but 10 times better. Although I had no presents to unwrap that morning, I had a whole summer of ball ahead of me, and a fastball right down the middle was the best present for which I could ask. Bud Bowen was on the loud speaker announcing team names, and fans and teammates gathered together for the national anthem. Baseball was always a getaway for me from the stresses of life, and that short, skinny, 9-year-old boy learned a lot playing the game. I learned that life never goes as planned, and I also learned that friends and teammates are important in dealing with whatever life throws your way. Never was this more evident than my junior year at Oak Hill Academy.
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