Jason Harper, Director, Rancho Cordova Athletic Association

Part One

I raised my son to be a lifelong ballplayer.

At least, that was my plan.

We played endless Wiffle ball games in a living room converted into a scaled-down ballpark. Sometimes I would ask him to pick up the ball and throw it with his left hand. I figured a little encouragement might improve his chances of becoming a lefty.

Just a father looking out for his kid’s future.

We went to baseball games together. He would fall asleep in the first inning and saw logs through the next eight. I watched nine innings. He got a terrific nap.

Me and the boy. And baseball.

He played every year until he was ten. As he approached the age for Majors, we followed our annual routine: finish Thanksgiving dinner, then get the glove and bat ready.

That gave us about two months to prepare for tryouts.

Some families put up Christmas decorations.

We got ready for baseball.

I loved the throwing. The hitting. The time together. There was always another season coming, and I could already picture us in it.

Dad. Son. Baseball. Us.

Then came the night before tryouts.

“Dad, we need to talk.”

That sentence will get a father’s attention.

Especially from a ten-year-old.

He was working up the courage to say something. And I had spent most of his life making my love for baseball unmistakable.

“Dad, I don’t play baseball anymore.”

Wait.

Tomorrow was tryouts.

The glove was ready. The bat was ready.

I was ready.

Then he finished.

“I play lacrosse.”

Lacrosse?

What is lacrosse?

Next week in the Weekly Whistle: A baseball dad meets lacrosse—and why your family might want to meet it, too.