Reflections on a Shared Baseball Journey
Back on May 31, 1997, I was just nine years old, feeling elated after hitting my first home run in the Tampa Bay Little League. My parents handed me the ball, and I scribbled the date on it. Fast forward to today, that ball still sits on a shelf in my den. It’s like a little monument to my childhood, a reminder of a pivotal moment.
Last week, my 7-year-old son achieved something similar—he won a game ball after his own match. Strikingly, he plays in the very same league and on the same field where I scored my home run. Of course, I placed his ball right beside mine.
After our last game, the other coaches and I agreed that we’re not just teaching sports. There’s something deeper at play—we’re guiding boys into becoming men through the game of baseball.
As I picked up my ball to add his to the shelf, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my own handwriting from so many years ago—it was childishly innocent, with letters bouncing around awkwardly. Memories flooded back: the scent of snack stands, the taste of gloves I’d gnawed on while out in the field, and that one dad in the bleachers who was always displeased with the decisions made by the umpires.
Then something struck me: the two baseballs, decades apart, looked identical. Same color, same stitching, same weight. A remarkable resemblance.
For a moment, I just stood there, gazing at the two balls. An odd realization hit me in the stillness. In a world filled with constant changes and demands, baseball feels like an act of rebellion somehow—against shifting values, identities, and even truths.
In a culture driven by a relentless pursuit of the new and the next, those two matching baseballs served as poignant reminders. Not everything needs to be redefined or improved upon. Some things are indeed worth holding on to.
If you’ve followed my thoughts before, you know I take pride in celebrating enduring values—faith, family, freedom, and more. I often critique passing trends while shining a light on what is truthful, good, and beautiful. These values stabilize us amidst life’s chaos, connecting not only our personal narratives but also our society at large.
Let’s be real: these days, the world feels particularly unsteady.
Our society now demands that we rethink fundamental truths. Conversations abound about identity, ideology, and what it means to be patriotic. The very essence of faith is scrutinized, masculinity labeled as toxic. Traditions are questioned, boundaries blurred, and norms are up for debate.
Yet, amidst all that turbulence, baseball remains. Quiet and unchanged. It sits exactly where I left it.
This is no coincidence. It points to a deeper truth written in the fabric of the human experience—a longing for stability, for order, for the eternal. In this sense, it’s not unlike our cultural struggles.
Coaching my son on the same diamonds I played on, I don’t focus on preparing him for the chaos out there. Instead, I believe in anchoring him to something solid. After our latest game, my fellow coaches and I reaffirmed that we’re doing more than just coaching baseball—we’re nurturing boys into men.
We’re teaching them that masculinity is not a shifting concept. That marriage is more than a mere contract. That true freedom carries responsibility. Tradition isn’t something to flee from; it’s a legacy to inherit and pass down. That notion is at the heart of fatherhood and citizenship, as well as faith.
Contrary to what modern culture often claims, tradition doesn’t equate to control. Rather, it creates continuity, forming a thread that links generations—and it withstands the test of time, irrespective of fleeting trends. The packaging may change, but it doesn’t define you.
You’re defined by how you love your family, serve your neighbors, and even how you respond in uncomfortable situations. By your courage when convenience tempts you otherwise. By those quiet moments, like tossing a baseball in the yard with your kids.
The stitching on that baseball hasn’t changed at all. It doesn’t fulfill the role of fatherhood or offer moral clarity. There’s no beauty in the shared meals or the dignity of honest work reflected in it.
Perhaps it’s time to return to those fundamentals.
In a world captivated by change, it might be smarter to focus on what remains constant. Maybe the real challenge isn’t about keeping pace with an ever-evolving society; rather, it’s about staying tethered to beliefs and principles that matter, even as the world grows noisier.
Back in 1776, the North Carolina constitution echoed this sentiment. George Mason, one of America’s founders, famously noted, “Frequent recurrence of fundamental principles is absolutely necessary to maintain the blessing of freedom.”
That baseball resting on my shelf? It’s unchanged—and so are the invaluable lessons it holds.
I’ll hold on to that, tightly.
