Hello, my name is ^Mitheral^ and I would like to share a story from my childhood with my fellow colleagues.
             When I was growing up my friends and I played baseball at an old abandoned field outside of town. The field now is an over populated loud subdivision. We use to race to the field after school and split up into teams as soon as we got there. Now we don't go to the old field anymore. We played hundreds of games over the years. The field was a place of hopes and dreams to all of us who graced its hallowed diamond.
             We all loved the cubs and Dave Kingman at the time was the home run hitter that we all wanted to be. My cousin would say "and now stepping up to the plate Dave Kingman" when I would approach the home plate. The pressure was intense. I needed to hit a home run to keep my reputation as a great power hitter intact. The pitcher would look me up and down trying to size me up. I just waited for my chance to hit a homer. The sweat was burning my eyes as it was running down my face. The pitcher wound up and with a great grunt hurled the ball. You could feel the tension in the air as the whistling ball neared the plate.
             Those were the best days of my life. All things must come to an end I suppose. The old field is now an over populated subdivision. So many dreams were born under these houses and streets. I wonder if the people here can feel the joy we had in this place? Can they smell the freshly trampled grass? Do they hear the chanting antics of the outfield "hey batter swing"? I wonder if anyone who lives here has ever found traces of our epic games at the diamond?
             I tried to find where home plate use to be. I looked for familiar landmarks but couldn't find anything that looked the same. I stared at the ground for what seemed like an eternity. Roads and houses crisscrossed through the once abandoned field making it impossible to loca
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