(The randomizer picked "Who Are You" one inning break. I overheard a couple of the San Marcos kids talking, trying to place it "from that show on TV". I do love "C.S.I.", but dammit, I expect them to have this piece of culture in its original context dammit...)
Afterwards, I swung by Nate's house to drop off the contract that needs to go to the league so I'm properly registered to play on Sundays. Shandy was supposed to be there to take it, as Nate was running a practice for the 13-and-under team we all coach, but wasn't. *shrug* That's not really important. It was the first time I'd ever been to the Poliakoffs'... walking into the backyard, I swear if I were the kids' age I would've passed out thinking I'd died and gone to heaven.
You see, Nate's talked a lot about his baseball experience. He never played organized ball until he tried out for (and made) the freshman team at Poway. "I just played in the back yard with my dad, brothers, and friends," he's said. Okay, I assumed that meant they had a big back yard, as I did, and at most threw down plastic bases or plywood scraps or flattened empty boxes. A batting cage is a given, lots of people around here have that.
No. They actually played baseball in the back yard. On a baseball field. Ray put down a full infield (though I think at the 60' Little League base dimensions.) And an 80-yard football field across it, complete with uprights. There's a half basketball court off to the side. Throwing a wrestling mat down in the garage was easy enough, which now that I think about it is probably common amongst wrestling families. (I don't know too many, so I don't have any other points of reference.) The rest of us had to walk down to the park, or the school yard for that kind of thing. They got to stay in their back yard. That's insane. It's the kind of thing I'd want to do.
Of course, I'd have to build a scoreboard for the baseball/football field. But I'm an engineer, not a doctor. :-)