Play ball...

Dear son,

I was killing some time at a Target store earlier today, and I saw a bunch of baseball gloves. I wondered if you would be into playing baseball, wondered what it would be like to play catch with you when you're a little older. There's all sorts of cool gloves available, and bats even have a sizing chart. Maybe you'll inherit my hatred for the New York Yankees. I predict that physically you'll be a very good athlete. Whether you want to play will be left mostly up to you. My father and I never played anything together, really, and that's a shame, but he didn't encourage me to do much of anything. And take my word for it, when you're a kid, you need lots of encouragement. In fairness to my father, though, he had it tough; he's an immigrant, you see, and had to work hard all his life, so he didn't have much time or energy for luxuries like playing sports, or even watching them, except for professional wrestling, which much to my embarrassment, both my parents are nuts about. Nuts, I tell you.

Love,
Dad