A few years ago, I visited my hometown of Hammond, Ind. I walked the half-block from my childhood home to my favorite place of all. Standing where home plate used to be, I gazed out across what was once the “Wild West” of our neighborhood: an open field next to our church where we played endless games of baseball in the late 1950s and early ’60s.
The small, one-story Terrace Park Church of God that sat off the third baseline has expanded over the years. Now, most of left field sits beneath Sunday school classrooms and a choir loft. Center field is covered by a row of
