Growing up playing baseball, uniform day was always one of the most important days. Something about seeing your coach drag out the large box and start shouting out numbers with the apprehension that your number would be the right size, and that no one else would want it, was an unmatched mix of excitement and anxiety.
Finally, towards the end of the box, because your number was always near the bottom, the coach would pull out your number, and at the moment, you knew you would have a great season. For me, it was always number 11.
I started playing baseball in the late 90s, and like many, my introduction to the game came in my backyard playing catch with my mom, dad and older brother.