He first picked up a baseball bat in hisgrandparent’s backyard with hisUncle and cousin. After swinging and missing repeatedly with the oversized, orange, plastic bat, he finally managed to make contact with the wiffle ball – off of a tee.
From then on, you would be hard-pressed to find the kid without a baseball glove, bat, or just plain old baseball in one of his tiny hands. It was baseball non-stop, whether in the house, by the pool, in the park, on the beach or in bed.
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