The Beginning

Where do I start. Well, when I was 12 years old my father told me one day about how he almost made it to the big leagues. That's baseball were talking about. His dream was to play for the New York Yankees. He never got a chance to achieve his dream. The day he was heading to try outs he got into a car accident with a drunk driver and lost his ability to use his arm. Turns out that drunk driver was a member of the team. Turns out he got away with it. Not exactly a way to bring out "team spirit". My father never participated in or watched another baseball game since. Now as I tell you this you might just think im a boy who had a father who brought his boy up on baseball. But let me tell you I'm not. Im a girl, flesh and blood. And my father did not bring me up on baseball for sure. I guess it comes naturally because he told me when I was older that I had this habit of throwing things as a kid. Didn't matter what it was. Rocks , you name it. I threw it at everything and unfortunately at everyone of my friends thinking I was cool for whatever reason. Its just what kids do sometimes. Thats when parents come into play. So to speak.