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I wonder if kids even imagine being big league baseball players anymore.
When I was a kid, when we were born to baseball — no MLB marketing departments needed — I wanted to be Whitey Ford. I’d perform my windup in the full-length mirror in the hallway to become a lefty, like Whitey.
But short of a rarity — an Aaron Judge or perhaps “LFGM” Pete Alonso — who do today’s kids have, provided they can free themselves of all-weather, all-day video games that massacre imaginary humans with imaginary exploding weapons?
What’s there to imagine or mime? Becoming their favorite seventh inning designated reliever? Practicing bat flips in the yard? Jogging to first?
