As we drove home from school, my daughter piped up from the back seat, “I think baseball season is my favorite of all the seasons.” I focused on the road, trying to contain my excitement over her words. It was a thrill to hear, but I knew I had to play it cool.
I never wanted to impose my love for baseball on my kids. Just like my own father did, I wanted them to discover their passion for the game organically. He introduced me to baseball without pressure, taking me to games and teaching me how to keep score. On school nights when I had to turn in early, he’d leave me notes with the game results—especially cherished when my beloved Mets were playing out west.
While I never forced the game onto my daughters, they have certainly been immersed in baseball culture, and with each Opening Day, they seem to absorb my enthusiasm for the season ahead. This year, though, was special. For the first time, my 8-year-old expressed her excitement about baseball unprompted.
When I was her age, the Mets won the World Series, a feat they have yet to replicate. Each Opening Day brings a mixture of hope and nostalgia, especially in recent years, as I reflect on the bittersweet memories associated with the game.
My childhood idol was Gary Carter, the catcher who embodied hope for us Mets fans. He hit a game-winning home run in his first game with the team and played a pivotal role in our 1986 championship victory. His legacy inspired me to be a catcher in Little League, and I followed his career as he transitioned to coaching after his playing days. Tragically, Carter passed away far too young in 2012, just shy of 58. Before his illness, he was building a career as a successful manager in the minors and college baseball, dreaming of returning to the majors.
Every Opening Day, I watch with a mix of hope and sadness, remembering the players who shared the field with Carter. I think of how many fans got to witness their heroes take on new challenges, unlike me, who will never see my childhood idol return to the diamond.
Yet, as Opening Day approaches, hope prevails. I think about all the experiences my daughter still has ahead as a baseball fan. Perhaps this will be the year the Mets finally clinch a championship title at the same impressionable age I once did.
I’ll be sure to fill her in on the parts of the games she missed because of school. I’ll take her to games, teach her how to keep score, and share stories about Gary Carter, ensuring she understands the significance of the game.
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In summary, nurturing a love for baseball in your children can be a rewarding journey. By sharing your excitement without pressure, you allow them to develop their own relationship with the game, just as you did.