We were the moms of summer, fall, winter, and spring. "The memories are so thick we have to brush them away from our faces." Our trunks were filled with folding chairs, umbrellas, spikes, wooden bats, aluminum bats and balls. We carried team snacks, first aid kits and car loads of little leaguers to practice and games. We experienced the triumphs of wins and brought ice cream after a tough loss, while our boys of summer played the American Pastime, our American Dream.

We know things." For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball" and that the Delaware River is the keeper of the secret of the mud that looks and feels like chocolate pudding. Like the mud that we came home late at night to clean off of uniforms for the next day's game.

We tallied stats, recorded scores and found obscure fields for away games without a GPS or internet maps, and we were never late. We knew Who was on first, What it took to get to second, and we knew, I Don't Know was the coach standing by third base. We closed our eyes when something bad was happening and cheered when injured players got up. We loved and hated Durocher and we cried when Harry Carey died because there was no one better to lead us better during the seventh inning stretch.

We raised catchers, centerfielders and bench warmers. We challenged umps, because our kids were taking chances that others were too scared to take. Our kids got beaned, ran into brick walls to catch that fly ball. We were there to cheer a great play for anyone's kid. We know a broken heart from lost games and we know that right now, right this minute, that our kids were the best team in baseball and were awesome. We were there to back up the team, our sons and each other, "And we watched the games and it was as if we dipped ourselves in magic waters."

Our sons have gone from wearing pin stripped uniforms to pin stripped suits. But we know that," The one constant through all the years, has been baseball. Baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. "

We get absolute pleasure from reliving games, the liberating feeling of being away from the drudgery of house cleaning and being able to respond to , "Hey, what if the Voice calls while you're gone? by saying, Take a message," it's baseball season! We have always believed in there is another season, but for us mom's of summer it will be as grandmothers now. We have had the luck to fall in love with baseball, in the home of the brave, here in the "Land of the free and the doormat of the National league!"