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It’s March. Finally, it’s spring. I look forward to this time every year. It has been a long, cold winter sitting in the corner of the garage. I see her coming toward me with a smile on her face. I know that she is excited. She’s always excited at this time of year. As she picks me up and throws me on her shoulders, I remember when she first started. Since she was six, Amanda has had a determination and a love for this sport like no other. Year after year, she has improved not only in her ability to play, but in her maturity as well. I think of last season, her best season so far. I remember all the homeruns that were hit and the no-hitters that were pitched. I wonder how many more she will hit and pitch this season. She sets me down in the grass and opens my middle compartment. She puts on her cleats and picks up her glove. She places her glove on her head, just like always, while she stretches her arms. Now, she calls for her dad to