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He was always getting up a game of some kind, usually sandlot football.
Mark had a knack for gathering my friends and me, most of us 10 years his younger, for a game of football in the fall or baseball in the spring. And he was my own personal trainer, throwing me thousands of football passes or hitting me countless groundballs, trying to make me better.
But there was more to it than the game. Something much larger than that. The sport was only an avenue enabling Mark to do something far more important than catching or throwing a ball.
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