![]() We were bored, and Ross’s mom must have had dice in her purse. But summer league baseball games - even those pitched by future Cy Young winners - are for scouts and sunscreen-slathered moms, throned in their visors and folding chairs. (The opposing pitcher that day? Nashville’s own David Price). ![]() In 2002, I was 15 and Ross was 13, and we were there to watch Ross’s ambitious older brother Josh play for his travel team. The basics of the Raleigh and Ross Baseball League were dreamt up on the oppressive bleachers of Trevecca Nazarene University’s baseball field - a field on which I, merely four years later, would play one bench-bound season of collegiate baseball. “Sometimes,” Ross smiled at me, “you gotta roll the dice.” We watched as Josh took the sign and laid down a perfect squeeze bunt. ![]() On the field, Ross’s older brother, Josh, played out another dreary, meaningless summer league baseball game. ![]()
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