As I sit here in the twilight of my life, I think back to the first love of my life.

I was a kid and knew nothing of love or what it meant.

Then it happened. Standing in the middle of a field of freshly mowed grass. The smell was intoxicating to me.

I watched as the man emptied his bag full of grass and went on to the next field.

I walked through the grass, and it stained my white shoes green. 

Then I stepped onto the dirt, and it made a crunching sound as I walked on it.

The sun warmed me on this early morning summer day. I could think of no place I would rather be than standing here in this field.

My dad would call to me and ask me to sit beside him.

We watched as the others walked onto the field, taking their positions.

I wanted to be with them, alas, I was too young to be out there.

My dad saw the glimmer in my eyes and knew I was in love with the game.

We watched as they played their game.

"Strike one. Strike two. Strike three, you're out," the umpire yelled.

I saw the ball fly like it had wings. It would fly over the fence, and the batter would round the bases, making that crunching sound with his cleats. Touching home plate with happiness.

Soon after that day, my dad bought me a present. It was my very own glove.

I loved the smell of the leather. It was my glove and I would treasure it all my life.

He told me to oil the glove to keep it preserved. 

We broke in the glove with a game of catch.

We would spend hours playing catch. Sometimes I would wind up like a pitcher, other times I would act like I was making a spectacular catch in the outfield.

I spent weeks trying to get better. I was at the age where I could join a team, and the team I did join.

I was a Bear. I had a baseball shirt with the Bear logo splashed across the front in bold blue and yellow colors.

My number was on the back. I was sixteen, a number that I would keep for the rest of my life.

I remember stepping out onto that grassy field for the very first time, the aroma of the grass filling my senses. 

My glove was at the ready. I was hoping to play the outfield, but the manager said, "Son, you are pitching today. I have seen you throw the ball, and you are the best on our team."

I gulped and thought I was pitching? I have only pretended to pitch before.

I walked out to the mound of dirt. The sand crunched below my cleats. I stepped on the rubber.

A big kid stepped into the batting box and snarled at me.

I reared back and threw as hard as I could. He swung and missed, and I heard the umpire yell out, "Strike one."

Two more pitches and I heard the umpire yell out, "Strike three, you're out."

I now knew what love was. I loved this game.

That day, I struck out six batters. I did give up a couple of runs, but we won six to two.

Walking back to the dugout after the game, I took a whiff of my glove and listened to the sound I made as I walked.

I remember celebrating our win and being congratulated by my coach and teammates. 

My dad ran to me as I left the field and said, "I think I have a Cy Young award winner sometime in the future. I am proud of you."

That summer was the beginning of my love of the game of baseball.

Little did I know that summer would change my life forever.

Our team won our league championship, and I was named the best pitcher in the league.

I still think that was the best summer of my life, and many would never understand that when I was asked.

Those days of first time smelling the grass, the crunch of my cleats, the smell of my new glove. The crack of the bat. The sunshine during the day and the lights shining down on us at night.

My parents sitting in the wooden stands cheering me on. Those are the days and nights I fell in love with baseball. My first and lasting love.

The awards were nice, but the feeling of butterflies in my stomach each time I pitched lasted throughout my life.   

............................

As I sit here reflecting on those days. I miss so much about them. My parents, for the first time watching me pitch. The smell of the grass. I even missed the old scoreboard sign.

My dad was incredibly proud of me for making it to the big leagues as a pitcher. His proudest day was when I won my first Cy Young award. He was right all those years ago when he said, "I think I have a Cy Young award winner." 

I won that award three times, and throughout my career, I became a feared pitcher.

Those years are long ago. The awards were highlights of my career. The one fact that will never change about me is the summer I fell in love.

This game has been romanticized in books and movies. None of those were like the romance I had with a game.

Not with a person or thing did I love in my early years more than I did with a silly game we like to call baseball.