(From the Daddy Diary Archives – Jeff wrote this a while ago… but it has somehow disappeared from the site…)
Dear Baseball Diary-
Dads all over this country are smiling from batter’s box to batter’s box tonight. They’ve given their boys away for the hopes of someday wearing a ring, a World Series Ring. We had a local kid here in St Louis that was drafted 9th overall by the Detroit Tigers. So, one day Jacob Turner is studying for his Algebra final and fixing his hair for Senior Prom. The next day, he’s the property of the same team that Ty Cobb, Hank Greenberg, and Al Kaline all earned “Cooperstown” induction…Oh, yeah, and he’ll probably become a zillionaire on top of all of that fun
So, after watching tonight’s local news with my son, I look at my boy. Our eyes meet. He gives me that look. He nods his head as if it say “Dad, it’s a done deal. Just give me the ball.”
He stands a towering 3foot2 when his blond mop is grown out, weighs in at 32pounds and throws in the mid 20s. He can top out at 30mph after eating a pack of StarBurst. His name is “Cooper” named after … yep, you guessed it. Go ahead and ask him to count to 5. He won’t give you the normal 1-2-3-4-5. He’ll say…Ozzie, Red Head, the Babe, Iron Horse and Albert, all of whom are inducted or will be some day inducted into his town, ahem, I mean Cooperstown.
So, here’s a quick “heads up” for all of you Major League Scouts. I got a ‘can’t miss’ prospect for you. Check back in for the 2024 draft. By then, he’ll be 6foot5, 215 pounds, long and lanky. He comes straight over the top with a tall and fall delivery. He tops out in the mid to high 90s, and has never thrown a breaking pitch. The Professional Coaches will take care of that part. He just worked on arm strength and mechanics since he was 3. He loves the game. He lives the game. He was born, destined to pitch in a Game 7.
Hold on. Wait a second. He’s calling me. What’s that Coop? You want to go pitch to me. You want to learn a 4-seamer grip. You want to put on your shoe-shoe? Oh, geez, you mean, you have to go POO-POO.
Well, we got a ways to go, but I can SMELL IT anyway.
Dad of a Hall of Famer-to-be
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