My kids will tell you, all I ever want to do is sit around and talk old high school baseball stories.

In 1977, I was in the first graduating class of Shadow Mountain High School in Phoenix, Arizona.  Because the school was brand new, the baseball field was still desert-like.

Every Saturday our baseball coach, William Hatcher, made us come down to the field at a very unreasonable hour.  Our job?  To pick up rocks out of our infield so we’d get better hops.

Every Saturday for three years.

You can take a barren piece of desert and make something of it – ask Curt Schilling, who became an all-state pitcher on the same field… a small way thanks to us.

Can something be done here?

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