What Little League Means to Me


There is probably no day that is more important in Imperial Beach than Little League Opening Day on March 8. That is when more than 300 children and their families, the foundation of our blue-collar community, gather to celebrate a rite of childhood and America’s pastime. 

For me, a father with two teenage sons who I taught to play ball about a decade ago and who played IB Little League, baseball has always been more than just a game. It was the vehicle through which my immigrant father who arrived in America in 1939 to escape the Nazi occupation of Europe (many of his family members who stayed in Europe later perished in concentration camps), became an American kid and later allowed him to teach me to become one too.

The year that my dad arrived on a boat from France with my Grandma Lotti and Uncle Roland, he didn’t speak a word of English. But after he settled in Queens, New York, he picked up baseball. 


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