Peter Shelton

Dream Field

Posted in Confessions of a Grandpa, Life in Central Oregon, More Sport by pshelton on June 16, 2015

When we got over to the first base side where Vinnie the Elk was posing for pictures, Alex wormed around my leg and said he no longer wanted to say hello. The Bend Elks mascot knew what to do. He held up a fuzzy-hoof high five to which Alex, suddenly relieved of his shyness, responded with enthusiasm.

The other big distraction was the loud-clomping girl. She was tall and gangly, a pre-teen in short shorts, part of what looked to be three generations of a tall, rangy family sitting near us in the stands. The rest wore cowboy boots. She was in flip-flops and somehow made more noise coming and going on the metal bleachers than the rest of them combined.

Of course, there was baseball too. (more…)

Time and Baseball: Playing Catch

Posted in Uncategorized by pshelton on May 10, 2012

Baseball is a game of throwing and catching. Hitting and running and sliding, too, of course. But mostly, it is a game of catch based on the primordial, leisurely, endlessly variable conversation between fathers and sons under the sky on a patch of grass. (more…)