Regardless, I was still happy with my physique, and never really looked down on myself because of it. My arms weren’t the biggest but them being slender should have told scouts I would throw harder. I didn’t look as strong as I would imagine my dad used to, but I still looked good enough to play Division I baseball, or at least I thought I did. I was a slightly taller, more slender 5’11” and weighed only 175 lbs. He looked like he used to be the tough guy on the block, but age and wisdom, along with a family, had mellowed him down.
My dad was a strong 42 year old man, 5’10”, 185 lbs and slowly graying hair. Me and my dad talked about that on the way there. I was pretty good at but no Division I schools would give me full rides, so I was planning on spending my next semester at an affordable Division III school less than 3 hours away from home. My dad said he would call off of work Friday so he could drive me the 4 hours it would take to get to my tournament.
I was a senior in high school, getting ready for the last baseball tournament of the season. It was the spring after I just turned 18.
