It seems like baseball season just ended.  I didn't think I would be ready for it, but sure enough I hear the ball hit the bat and smell that red dirt and a flutter of excitement hits me.  I grew up a stone's throw from a little league baseball park..  The spring weather changes and memories from my youth engulf me... and they all seem to surround one man...

I looked out the window to see that a group of neighborhood boys had congregated in our backyard for a friendly game of baseball.  I smiled as I saw the boys made a staircase- the youngest 6 to the oldest 12.  It made me smile to see the oldest boy was Bill Kringlen’s son,  my own Little League Baseball coach.
The sight took me back a few years to my own front yard.  I grew up in the original part of town in family of 7 kids.  We didn’t have much to boast of in those days.  Boats and 4 wheelers were far removed from our own existence.  But we did have baseball.  And our front yard was our own diamond.  I marvel now how my mother never complained at the permanently imprinted baselines in her grass.  First and third bases were formed by cracks in the sidewalk and second base was the spot on the lawn that was worn through with dirt.  The home run line was marked by our line of lilac trees.  This field always hosted a ball game on even the hottest summer days.  The players again came in a staircase of sizes.
Bill Kringlen’s Rotary baseball was as good as religion in our home.  He brought to our lives discipline and hard work.  We knew that to miss a practice was the cardinal sin.  Dedication was imprinted upon our list of must have values and no matter what you never quit.
He also taught us baseball at its best.  Fly balls, grounders, and  the infield creep were fundamentals engrained  upon our memories as well as the proper technique needed to hit the ball.   We were more than fortunate that this bachelor chose our little clan as one of the many that he would serve as not only coach to but also as surrogate uncle.  His love of baseball combined with his love of youth  created the perfect duet.
It’s spring time in Cedar City the ball fields are dotted with local little league teams clamoring to play ball.  There will be wind, rain, and a few rays of sunshine and most definitely there will be baseball.  Choose a favorite team and follow it.  There will definitely be a “Rotary” coach or two out there.
I will be cheering for Cedar National’s Outlaw Trucking .  My boys will be to every game and practice come rain or shine because that is the “Kringlen way.”  I’ll cheer my boys on at the plate or as they attempt to “turn two” and out of the corner of my eye I will be looking for Kringlen in his blue bronco with his dog named Reggie who I am sure is up there watching and shouting “play ball.”