We settle for the field beside the local elementary school. The dirt's not raked, matter of fact the pitchers mound is a muddy depression. First base pokes out of the grass. If you stomp on second base, as you round for third, muddy water shoots out toward the short stop. It doesn't matter, it's baseball.
Logan chopped a couple hits. When Cole steps to the plate, each hit is a home run, as he will not stop running until he slides into home. Always dramatic. I was pulled in the second inning, for my wife the relief pitcher. I promise I did not intentionally try to hit the batter. The sun is going down, time to head home for dinner. Once more around the bases, just for fun, except Logan who stops on second to stick his finger in the hole to see where the muddy water is coming from.