Baseball. America’s pasttime. One of my absolute favorite things in the world.

Ever since I was little, baseball has always held a special place in my heart. My dad was scouted by the Reds and played some farm team ball right out of high school. Johnny Bench came to watch my dad catch his senior year.

Needless to say, I grew up as a “girl of summer.” There was only one boy in the sea of estrogen that is my family. So, when we wanted to play catch, we played CATCH: full-size regulation bats, balls and as big of gloves as we could hold up with our little arms...the whole works. I think my sister still has a scar from where a grounder hit her in the chin. She cried for a minute, but my dad made her keep practicing until she got it right.

This might sound like a little much for a 6’2”, 250-pound man to be putting his toddler daughters through, but it doesn’t seem weird to me.

Last week, we witnessed history. The Red Sox made the greatest comeback in baseball, and possibly sports, history to make it to the World Series and play my Cardinals. I couldn’t be happier.

Outside of New York and maybe even in the Big Apple, people were rooting for the comeback. Every baseball fan was hoping for the impossible to happen, and then it did. I think even some Yankee fans were excited about it (even if they won’t admit it right now).

Even in the media frenzy of the great curse possibly ending or a chance to see STL come out on top, all I can remember is standing in my grandmother’s back yard with my dad and my sisters playing until it finally go too dark to see the ball. To me, that’s why baseball means so much. Whether you’re being paid millions of dollars to play the game, or you’re just in the yard playing with your daughters, it has the same effect. It doesn’t matter if you’re hitting a home run off Roger Clemens or getting one past your dad the first time, baseball brings us together: families, cities, even nations.

After 9/11 when the first teams started to play again, the entire country watched. Baseball brought back a normality to the country during the time of tragedy and for a few days, there were no sides.

That’s when its the best. When no on really cares who wins, just as long as everyone gets to play.

Where I’m one of the most competitive people on the planet, sometimes winning isn’t ALWAYS the most important thing, and baseball is one of the sports that has taught us this lesson. So, as you watch the World Series this week, try and think about the bigger picture of things...just how much baseball means to this country and so many people. I know part of me wants to drive back to Paducah and watch it with my dad. Maybe I could get him to come out of retirement for one more game of catch.

GO SKYHAWKS!!!