Recently enjoyed a retirement dinner for someone in the family. If someone can convince me otherwise, sports writers don’t retire. They just fade away.

Got me thinking about my baseball bucket list. Some boxes have been checked. Others still unaccounted for.

Visited Cooperstown, N.Y. for Hall of Fame Weekend for the induction of Greg Maddux and Tom Glavine. Set aside a few days to enjoy the full experience. Our first day, noticed former major leaguers seated alongside the sidewalks signing autographs. Ran into Atlanta Braves pitching coach Leo Mazzone for a signed baseball.

The pace picks up 10-fold for the parade of Hall of Famers along Main Street Saturday evening along with Sunday’s multitude of baseball fans gathered in an open field for the induction speeches. All worth the price of admission – which is free.

I’ve sat in the bleachers at Wrigley Field on a summer afternoon. Cubs fans know how to have a good time without being obnoxious. Even if it involves throwing baseballs on opposing home runs back into the field of play.

They are original. Now it’s the snake of plastic cups that spiral their way from the front row up to the concourse. Fans displaying their ‘W’ flag throughout the stadium is also impressive. Can’t call yourself a Cubs fan if you don’t own the ‘W’ flag. Just ask my parent’s neighbors across the street.

Originally from the Midwest but rooted in the Mid-Ohio Valley, I tell family and friends from back home PNC Park is a must.

On one of their vacations out East, my brother and his family met us in Pittsburgh. They did it up right. Cubs first baseman Kris Bryant was a fan favorite at the time, so all six members of his family wore Cubs jerseys, and posed on the Clemente Bridge with their backs to the camera looking toward PNC Park and the No. 17 in view on all five individuals.

I’ve been to my share of MLB ballparks. I’m spoiled that one of the most picturesque is less than three hours from my house.

Attend the CWS

Minus a game or two affected by rain delays, Omaha, Neb., barely an empty seat exists at Charles Schwab Field for the eight college baseball teams competing for the NCAA National Championship.

Judging by TV coverage alone, the energy is electric. Both in the stands and in the dugouts.

Even if you don’t have a dog in the fight, the experience of being there in person must be priceless. Especially for someone who appreciates the game from every angle.

Same goes for the women’s version in Oklahoma City, Okla. Emotions aren’t left solely in the opposing dugouts. Fans are just as passionate as the players

Cool thing about the NCAA Softball College World Series, assigned staff return home run balls to the parents of the player responsible.

If the opportunity ever presented itself, make it a two-for-one and plant myself in the Midwest for both the baseball and softball CWS. I’m sure the wife would be all in.

Bat against the Best

When I first entered the field of sports writing as a part-timer for the local paper, one of the sport writers decided to write a column based on his experience hitting against one of the local flame-throwers from the high school ranks.

‘Hitting’ is a term I use loosely because every pitch was a swing and miss. There was nowhere for him to hide, but he handled the opportunity gracefully.

Which brings me to current day. I’ve tried batting cages, but how does that perspective change when there is a Cali Masters (St. Marys) or Annie Shelton (Parkersburg South) coming at you from 43 feet?

I’ve written several stories on Parkersburg Catholic grad and former Marshall University pitcher Patrick Copen working his way back as a minor league pitcher. Watched him live when he was at PCHS under coach Tom Harvey, who could barely find a catcher to handle his fastball.

Copen recently earned a promotion to Double-A Tulsa (Okla.) after averaging close to two strikeouts per inning over 48 innings of work with High-A Great Lakes (Mich.)

Granted, Copen stands a bit further at 60 feet, 6 inches. But the velocity between the two sports is eerily similar.

In either circumstance, is bunting an option?

Field of Dreams

My father introduced me to the game of baseball. My earliest memories were somewhere between the age of 6 and 7. My older brothers played, but I didn’t get totally hooked until my father handed me some playing cards with the names of major league players and red and black numbers divided into three columns.

They weren’t trading cards. They belonged to a baseball board game which required dice rolling. I caught on as if it were meant to be.

A total of 21 years have passed since I moved from the Midwest. My wife and our dog Cody have made numerous trips to visit the family. Sometimes to golf. Mostly to catch up.

My father spent one season coaching our third-grade baseball team. I played second base, but I remember one game where I was told I might be put in relief. Never happened. Career pitching stats: 0 appearances.

My father is 86 and amazingly still pretty sharp. I understand him being disgruntled with salaries for athletes in general. He lived in times when athletes worked a side job during the offseason.

We have planned another visit this summer. This time I’ll bring the baseball gloves. Play some catch with my father. Maybe some dice rolling and play a few games of the baseball board game from where it all started.

I don’t know what the future has in store for my father, but maybe for a few days anyway I can bring back that passion for the game.

Contact Kerry Patrick at kpatrick@newsandsentinel.com