The crack of the bat echoes across the diamond as another summer evening begins, and somewhere in the bleachers, a baseball sibling settles in for what feels like the thousandth game of the season. While their brother or sister takes the field in crisp white baseball pants — well, at least for the first half of the season — these unsung heroes of youth baseball live a parallel life filled with their unique adventures, challenges and unexpected joys.

For baseball siblings, summer doesn’t revolve around beach trips or lazy afternoons by the pool. Instead, the family calendar becomes a maze of game times and field locations, with some weeks bringing baseball activities six days straight. Dinner plans are dictated by whether it’s a home or away game and bedtime routines are often interrupted by late-night drives home from distant ball fields where the floodlights have just clicked off.

While their sibling chases fly balls and turns double plays, baseball siblings create their own entertainment. The area behind the backstop becomes a playground where makeshift games of tag unfold between innings. Empty bleacher sections transform into obstacle courses to be conquered during pitching changes.

The red clay dirt that stains every piece of clothing becomes a medium for creativity. Mud pies emerge from the dugout dust. By the end of any given evening, a baseball sibling’s clothes tell the story of their adventures — grass stains on knees from sliding down hills beyond the outfield fence, dirt under fingernails from excavating treasures in the parking lot gravel. This freedom to explore and get dirty is becoming increasingly rare in our structured world.

The concession stand becomes a second home. Dinner often consists of whatever the snack shack offers: hot dogs that taste better when eaten in the stands, bags of sunflower seeds that create a satisfying crunch between cheers and mozzarella sticks that somehow taste gourmet while watching a close game unfold. The $5 bill tucked into their pocket feels like a fortune. And they’ve mastered the art of finding the mom or grandma most likely to bankroll a round of ring pops and gum.

These meals might not meet nutritionist standards, but they’re seasoned with summer evening air and the excitement of live competition.

Just as the fifth inning begins, a familiar melody drifts across the parking lot. The ice cream truck has arrived, causing every child to suddenly develop selective hearing about finishing dinner first.

The race to the truck becomes its own sport, with baseball siblings navigating through folding chairs and equipment bags. The decision-making process is serious: character popsicle with gumball eyes? Ice cream sandwich that melts too fast? Or the rainbow snow cone that turns tongues amusing shades of blue?

The baseball community creates its own family among the siblings. Age becomes irrelevant when you’re all united by the shared experience of long games and endless summers at the ballpark. Twelve-year-olds naturally take the younger kids under their wing, teaching them the unspoken rules of ballpark life: the fields with the best playgrounds (and actual bathrooms!) and where to find the best hiding spots during rain delays. The older siblings become protectors and guides, making sure the little ones don’t wander too far from the group and always have someone to sit with during those extra-inning marathons.

These bonds run deep. When a five-year-old starts crying because they dropped their skittles, an eight-year-old will wordlessly share theirs. If someone forgets their dollar for the ice cream truck, the group pools their change without hesitation. They form their own informal network of care, watching out for each other in ways that would make their parents proud if they knew half of what went on. The shy kid finds their voice cheering alongside their baseball family. The restless child learns patience by helping entertain the even younger ones. They become each other’s built-in playmates, confidants and partners in adventure, creating friendships that often outlast the baseball careers that brought their families together.

While their athletic siblings may eventually hang up their cleats, baseball siblings carry forward something precious: an understanding of what it means to show up for someone else’s dreams. They’ve learned patience through extra-inning games, adaptability when plans change and the art of finding joy in simple pleasures.

The game may be America’s pastime, but for baseball siblings, it’s the backdrop for a childhood filled with snack shack dinners, ice cream truck visits and the kind of memories that make you grateful for every grass stain and every double header that kept you at the ballpark just a little bit longer.

I had to add Kevin Dumais’ comment on Facebook! 

Sometimes it’s bottle flipping during a rain game at night