We didn’t have “flat bills”. We folded ours and put them in our back pocket.
Our hats weren’t fitted. They were mesh in the back and had snaps to make them fit.
We didn’t have fancy logos, letters or numbers on the hats.
Our teams didn’t have fancy names. We were sponsored by a local car dealer or business.
You didn’t pick your team or teammates. You were put on a team and made new friends.
When you hit a home run, you got a banana split at Dairy Queen – not recruited to a new team.
Our bats were wooden and all the same.
Our gloves were usually our dads, brothers or someone else’s.
We didn’t have batting gloves but if you were lucky you could rock wrist bands.
The fields had no fences and usually had weeds and rocks.
We rode our bikes to the games with the glove hanging off the handlebar and the bat across the front.
We played until it got dark not until our mom called us on our cell phones.
We didn’t fear predators, sunburns or strangers.
We wore stirrup socks up to our knees and, most likely a canvas tennis shoe.
We loved it.
When it was just a game.