There is something magical about baseball. It's a canvas of green and blue, painted as a backdrop for many of the extraordinary experiences in our lives.

Some of my best days ever were spent at the local baseball diamond, hitting pop flies to my young sons, Andrew and Tommy. Those days are indelible memories - illuminated by bright cerulean skies, framed by the park's giant maple trees, and accompanied by the sounds of aluminum pings and distant laughs from across the grass.

I’d toss baseballs into the air and hit them as hard and high and far as I could. The two brothers would squint into the sun and chase them deep into the outfield. Most could only be thrown halfway back, so we kept a rag-tag assortment of baseballs in a bucket at home plate.

The fielders wore their Little League tee-shirts - the Pirates, Cardinals, or Cubs. On special occasions, Andrew would wear a teal Seattle Mariners jersey. Tommy had a White Sox jersey that, along with his blonde buzz cut, was a classic. Photographs I wish I had taken.

I'd offer color commentary on the players.  Over the years, our most memorable expression was, “Cordova makes a diving catch!”   A "Cordova catch" was reserved for the most spectacular, game-saving catch.   Marty Cordova had one of the all time greatest ever SportsCenter baseball highlights.

Tommy’s interest was eventually diverted from baseball, and he lost his love for diving catches and grass stains.   It was sad. As if he no longer believed in Santa Claus.

But Andrew's passion didn't fade.   He especially liked pitching, and we practiced between games on our long asphalt driveway.   Late in one little league game, he was waved over to the pitcher's mound and things were never the same.   He loved staring the catcher in the eye.

By the time we reached Sarasota, Andrew felt accomplished and confident.  But he was no match for the pitchers in South Florida, who could throw faster than some professional players.   He tried out as a shortstop, only to compete against a future all-state player, eventually drafted by the Milwaukee Brewers.

He didn’t make the freshman team but he kept playing. Spring, fall, and summer ball.  Absorbed into a world of dusty batting cages and fenway-green cinderblock dugouts.

The sports complex they used was shared by the Baltimore Orioles minor league team, and their players, fresh from the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela, would call to each other in Spanish across the field.   Many of their games were played on stormy and steamy nights, with lightning constantly flashing in the distant sky. One night, the action paused as the Space Shuttle streaked by and created a sonic boom.

He learned about the mental game of baseball, and fought through periods where we thought he'd give up - but he didn’t. He made the high school team the next year, and it wasn’t even close.

For the next two seasons, only a few players were allowed to pitch. Everyone else sat on the bench, including Andrew.  Some never saw the field.  But Andrew was patient.   Before long, the coach was asked to leave and senior year was upon them.

The new coach was from the University of Louisville. He challenged players to prove themselves to him.   Andrew did. Then he asked the coach to help him find a college where he could pitch. But it seemed too late.

Just before leaving to attend Florida State, his coach called to see if he'd be interested in playing at Tallahassee Community College.   We drove there together.   After the tryout, the TCC coach said he liked Andrew as an athlete, a student, and a person.   He offered him a chance to compete for a spot on the team. No promises.

There were 14 other pitchers competing for the roster.   Some were from other colleges, and some were already on the roster.   He rode his bike to practice, often in the daily South Florida rain.   Other players would call him "Lance" as he locked his bike near the field - he didn't have a car.   He ran, lifted weights, and practiced with the team every day.   Through it all, I know what they saw. Character.

This week, entering the locker room, someone said to him, "Hey Andrew, you got number 24."

He called his high school coach to thank him.   He said, “Andrew, this just proves that if you're determined, you never know what you can accomplish.”

You never do know. Andrew is one of only a handful of students to earn an IB diploma and one of the few players from his high school now playing on a college team.

Baseball has been the stage for some extraordinary moments in my life, especially in those grassy fields hitting pop-ups to my boys.  And in Andrew's life.   It has inspired him do some amazing things.

So, whether he strikes out 1000 batters or no one at all as a college player, in my mind he has already accomplished something remarkable.

It was nothing short of a Cordova catch. One for the ages.

#sons

A Cordova Catch