"I love playing baseball with Theo and Jim," my son smiled at me.
"Me too," I smiled back.
As a point of clarification, I don't actually play - and neither does Jim, really. Jim coaches his son's team, one that my son had been on since he started Little League. This year, my son is on another team so now the boys occasionally play opposite one another. No matter. We all hug when we arrive, same when we leave, and our family can't help but root for Jim's son, Theo, when he's up to bat or on the mound. (This makes for some funny looks from the parents on our side of the field, especially when our Sam is batting against Theo, but we're o.k. with that.)
After the last game we had together I asked Sam what he and Theo were talking about during the game. Sam plays third and Theo had reached on a steal so they had a few moments to chat. I'd admonished Sam for what I suspected was some friendly trash-talking but he corrected me and said that both he and Theo's dad, Jim, were joking around, teasing Theo for some thing or another.
They do in mine, too. And that's why we love playing baseball with Jim and Theo.