The shot heard round the yard

To fully understand the scene, you need to know that my grandparents lived right next door to us, their house maybe 15 feet away from ours. Both of our front porches sat up, the decks about six feet high. There were railings on the porches of course, and from these railings people could stand and talk to one another across the breach. Or they could make a nice crowd for a five year old with imagination.

I remember well the day me Pops had us kids, me and my sibs, out on the little patch of yard between those porches, pitching a plastic baseball to us. We would all try in turn to absolutely clobber that ball, the ball Dad was trying his best to get to hit our bats. Mom and a couple other people stood on our porch to the left, me Grandpa Joe and Grandma and I honestly believe a couple others standing on the porch to the right. To a small child, it had a real stadium feel.

As I recall, I scorched a hard liner past the old man who, being at that moment my adversary, seemed far too pleased with my success. Joe smiled broadly as he puffed on his Charltons, and cheers rained down from the gallery as I loped unchallenged around the makeshift diamond, the youngest World Series winner in baseball history at old Tiger Stadium.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't actually Tiger Stadium. But as Cosgriff Field, it was a good substitute.