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The yard on the tree-lined street that offers a canopy of shade is neatly mowed. There is an American flag over the door, with a pro-police flag on the other side, the one with the blue stripe on a black-and-white background. A “Jesus” placard is planted in the front yard, in front of a Bradford pear tree the Boens planted not long after 1979, when they moved in.

But the welcome mat, the one shaped like home plate, that’s what really lets you know this place is special.

Then you hear the pop of a ball in a glove. Walk around back, past the garden with the tomato plants that neighbor Bert Spicer likes so much, and the sounds of summer waft through the air like the scent of honeysuckle in springtime.

Kristina Szydlowski digs her cleats into the dirt in the shade of a black walnut tree. She fires an underhand softball pitch to her mom, decked out in shin guards and a mask, in front of a net held up by PVC pipe. She pops the glove.

“Good job,” says Christe Mirikitani, her pitching coach, before offering a high-five.

Mirikitani is the Boens’ daughter. She grew up here, learning how to pitch in the same backyard. In the winter, her father hung a carpet on the wall in the basement so she could train year round. The practice paid off. She won a state title with , earned a full-ride scholarship to the University of Missouri, and pitched the Tigers to the College World Series in 1994.

Now 45, she lives with her husband, Jason, and their four children in nearby Ellisville.

But three times a week, she comes home after her day job as a chiropractor to her own field of dreams, to teach young girls about pitching and life.

“I think it’s great,” says Spicer. A former baseball and softball coach himself, he lives a few houses down the street and sometimes comes to watch. “If they make any noise at all, you ought to be happy to hear it.”

At least one of the Boens’ neighbors disagrees.

On Aug. 6, the Country Creek Homeowners Association sent the Boens a letter saying the trustees had received complaints about “traffic congestion, noise, and balls thrown into neighboring properties …” Signed by association trustee Eric Olliff, the letter asks the Boens to shut down their daughter’s softball pitching clinics.

“We’re just playing catch,” says Mirikitani. “I’m helping young girls.”

The problems started about a year ago. A neighbor — at the time, they weren’t sure which one — called police, who came by and realized quickly there was no problem. This summer, the police dropped by again. Then a zoning officer from the city of Ballwin came by. Mirikitani agreed to cut back the times of her lessons and encourage parents to park in the Boens’ driveway.

For the Boens, softball — and baseball — is a family affair.

Twenty-eight years ago, Judy Boen founded at Busch Stadium, a day each summer in which faith and baseball are celebrated, and, at least early on, thousands of disadvantaged children were provided tickets to the game. She’s still a little bitter that the Cardinals took over her labor of love a few years ago, but not so bitter that she doesn’t keep a shrine in her living room to more than two decades of memories.

As a teen, when she wasn’t on the softball field herself, Mirikitani often baby-sat for Cardinals coaches and players. Her family became friends with former Cardinals great Albert Pujols, and has organized of ӣ����Ƶans to watch him play since he joined the Los Angeles Angels.

On the day I visited, Mirikitani’s 11-year-old son played in the backyard with his grandfather while she coached young girls in the finer arts of whipping an underhand fastball.

“I just want to be able to teach pitching in my parents’ backyard,” Mirikitani says.

Her parents continue to support her efforts. So do most of their neighbors.

When the letter from the trustees came, Spicer got to work standing up for the woman who also baby-sat his kids years ago.

He started a petition to get the trustees to either stand down or change their bylaws. He’s got 18 signatures so far, including every neighbor on both sides of the Boens, several houses out. The way Spicer sees it, he’s sure there are plenty of other “businesses” being operated in the neighborhood, from day cares to piano lessons to other home-based operations. He either wants to see the rule ignored, as it likely has been for years, or changed.

“I would hate to see her be forced to stop,” Spicer says. “If you don’t enjoy the sounds of kids playing, you’re missing something.”