Cool Dood

Died on July 16th, 2017. Survived by a Wilson Glove, an Easton bat, and several baseball caps. I remember the field looking like it just went to the barber shop and got a fresh cut. The dirt looking like the sand of time. The championships won, us rushing the field, jumping for joy like the kids we were. I learned the subtle art of hitting a baseball at 8 years old, you watch the pitch all the way in, you step towards the pitcher, hips are the trigger for your arms, connect and watch it soar. I remember hitting the ball right in the sweet spot of the bat for the first time, it felt smoother than home plate after a shutout. I'll end in my last memory, I stood there looking out at the field for one last time, the lights illuminating the field as if it were heavens gates. It felt as though I was leaving home and never going back, this is a grief I will hold forever in my heart. As I'm walking away I look back I see my dad walking into the heavens gates illuminated field as he fades into the outfield forever, with a smile on his face and a trophy in his hand.