What Collecting Baseball Cards Means to Me
It was a rainy day sometime in the spring of 2001. I had a tee ball game behind the local high school before it was cut short due to a swift, strong downpour of rain. We were almost home before my dad realized he had left his mitt, a thoroughly broken-in, tan Rawlings with a fake George Brett autograph on the palm, at the field. We turned his 1988 red Jeep Grand Cherokee around, he grabbed it...
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