This past weekend was filled with me scrolling through endless tags & DM's on instagram...and when I say endless I mean ENDLESS. Every single time I looked at my phone it was either a mention or a message asking if that absolute lightning bolt of electricity you see above me is either myself or my long lost son. I am sad to report that the answer to both questions is a hard no.
Do I wish that was exactly how I acted back in my little league days? OF COURSE I DO. You can tell that fella dominates every tournament at both the hot corner and at first and I'm confident enough to bet a lot of money he's a power hitting lefty that starts constantly. Whereas your boy over here made the all-star team multiple times (no big deal), but had his ass benched pretty much for every all-star game. Also no chance I'd ever go near the hot corner- WAY too intimidating for my petrified little ass.
And to get on the forefront of him being my son- I once again fucking wish. Because that kid is either going to hit 500 home runs in the MLB or just have a simple career as a comedian. No way he's gonna settle for anything less than that in life. He was there to hit some dingers & that's what he's gonna do and in a few years I can see his life goal being to own beachfront property somewhere in Florida which is exactly what he's gonna do. I can only hope my possible son (don't know if I'm gonna be a dad or not yet ya know) will have the same mindset as that when it comes to little league/life.