One lesson, one game and my dad
My dad and I have never played catch. Not in the backyard. Not at a local park. Definitely not in an Iowa cornfield. Truth be told, I've snagged more popups in gym-class softball, thrown more strikes to golden retrievers.
Now that I'm penning a Father's Day column, I think this might be a problem.
Magical baseballs. Sacred gloves. Aloof, emotionally distant dads and wounded, acceptance-hungry sons. Such is the sappy, heartstring-yanking stuff of the typical Father's ...
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FATHER'S DAY WORDS TO LIVE BY
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