“Why did you think I was the one who didn’t belong in the house, Dad?” Austin had asked with crushing simplicity.

Peter told him that fear and cowardice had blinded him to what really mattered most, and that he would spend the rest of his life working to win back his son’s trust.

Austin didn’t offer some sudden, movie-style forgiveness; instead, he just picked up his wooden bat, tapped his father’s shin guard and asked if Peter could pitch him ten more fastballs.

Peter told me later, through tears, that Austin had hardly said a word for the first fifteen minutes of batting practice, but eventually he’d started giggling and teasing his dad about his awful throwing form.