I heard those words the other day coming from my neighbor’s yard.
There were kids in the next yard playing ball. Liam, age 7 or so, was the catcher, with a mask, a mitt and everything. Another kid stood at the plate, Casey at the bat. There was an actual baseball game going on, and there wasn’t a single adult out there. They were just kids, playing ball.
These days, you’re more likely to see Elvis than six- and eight-year-old kids playing ball! How sweet it is.
Some kids in our neighborhood ride bikes and a few shuffle around the parking lot on skate boards. Some bounce on a trampoline, but most are inside glued to their phones and video games.
When I was a kid (I still am, at heart) we played ball. Football in the fall, basketball in the winter and baseball throughout the spring and summer. We didn’t have leagues or parent interference. We just played ball.
Batter up, we called. It is so refreshing to once again her those words. How I wish that more children played ball and less children prayed at the altar of electronics