PATP has given me a weekend to recapture my youth and participate in the game that I last participated in 30 years ago as a college freshman.

There was little surprise in the actual playing of the games; hoped for there was the smell of the grass, the sound of wooden bats echoing, … beautiful. And the not so beautiful- this 48 year old not quite getting to balls that I used to, the newly acquired addiction to Tylenol for the aches and pains of running out to my position but the aches vanished, if only temporarily, with a solid hit or two with the wooden bat, a “Scott Green” model, in fact.

What I did enjoy most, and to that point completely forgot about over the years, was what a special place the dugout is; the sarcasm, the ribbing, the one-liners, the banter…waiting my turn, running in and out, being a teammate. I was thrilled to share it with others who were there because of the same indefinable allure baseball has, thanks again.

I apologize for the Hallmark description. If it brought a tear to your eye, pull yourself together and toughen up cupcake. I just wanted to say thanks, Scott, for a job well done.