by Larry McNerney

Created on: July 17, 2009   Last Updated: July 18, 2009

Subject: Summer days 09.


Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and children of all ages,

We are playing catch in the backyard, Joey and I. Grandfather, and grandson, in the eternal game of America. I was given a baseball mitt by my Jennifer, our daughter, and he was given one also. I remember that day so long ago that Dad gave me the first glove that was for big kids.

He was a weekend dad, and we saw him, mostly, on Saturday or Sunday. We were picked up from San Jose Ave., in SF, and we'd go to Glen Park, Park, and we'd play catch. We would also go to the local driving range and he taught us the basics of golf. The stance, the backswing, the hitting area, and the follow-through. After we moved to South City, Mom, and Steve, and Shelley and I, dad would come and the destination would be Orange Avenue Park, or Parkway Jr. High School. A ball would fly and we would run to get to it. Sometimes he'd show us how to hold the ball, just so, and throw it for a curve ball. He had been a high school pitcher in San Francisco, at Sacred Heart, an all boys Catholic school. He knew the correct grip and throwing motion, and he'd help us. We'd mostly play catch as a warm up, and then we'd hit the ball, with the bat, and the other guys would be fielding, picking up grounders and throwing the ball back in.

Golf was usually at Cypress Hills, in Colma. We'd hit the practice balls off the range, and we'd go to the putting green and we'd pitch, and putt, and get our hands around the game of golf. We played Cypress, together many, many times, and then we hit Sharps Park, and we also went to Harding Park in SF, as well as Lincoln. I stunk, Steve was a little better, and then there was the athlete amongst us, and dad would show us how it was done. He wasn't a great golfer, just a good one. Being our Dad we loved these times together.

In my youth I ran and hit, and threw with gusto, if not great accuracy. Today I played catch with my grandson, and it was fun. It wasn't the miracle of being seventeen and being with Dad, and Steve. Youth fades, and yet today I played catch with my grandson. He makes me laugh, and it was fun, fun, fun.

We will play catch some more, probably tomorrow, but most definitely Monday, and more days, next week. My arm is a little sore, and I have a smile on my face. It's only a ball, and you throw it. It's who you are throwing to, and getting the ball back from. It's been a grand summer, and it isn't over, not even close.

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