[Editor’s note: this post was originally from 2017.]
Though at age 45, I still don’t have it all figured out, I am starting to recognize and be grateful for certain events in my life as the learning experiences they were, and am finally starting to make a bit of sense of the past. In doing so, one night recently when the Dodgers mounted one of their thrilling late-inning comebacks and I found myself dancing around my living room in excitement, I started thinking about what my life would be like if I hadn’t first loved baseball as a youngster.