Our new coach made it clear there was a new sheriff in town. "Denny is going to be our catcher. Put the gear on, Denny," he said. Now, Denny did own a glove, but he was rarely called upon to use it, and then only as a harmless right fielder. Denny? As catcher? Any pitched ball would surely knock him over. Denny looked up at his new coach with horror, and excitement. Ricky Simpson, a classy, smart 10-year-old with a firebrand younger brother who ended up in the Coles County Jail, was our best pitcher, and Coach directed him to warm up with Denny. Ricky was nervous himself; he certainly didn't want to hurt the tiny boy. But he fired his best heater in there anyway. Denny, to his surprise, snatched it out of the air with his virgin catcher's mitt. The mask couldn't hide a huge smile. He popped back up and winged it back to Ricky. We had our catcher, and baseball found itself a fan.

The rest is here (and it's beautiful, please trust): http://www.sportsonearth.com/article/50598308/