Scott and I are walking on a sidewalk uprooted by a tree that’s shaded the spot for decades. The street has houses on both sides, but the sounds of the city are all around. We’re in the town where he grew up. We turn a corner and he slows in front of the house of his elementary school buddies: 3 brothers. He remembers playing whatever sport was in season in the front yard.  I can almost see the gangly boy in shorts and an OP t-shirt swinging the bat, making contact, and running to the grass-worn spot that was always first base. His face is serious. Even though it’s only…