Editor's Note: RebelGrove.com is publishing a series of letters that allow Ole Miss baseball fans to see some of the newcomers from the the No. 2 signing class nationally through the eyes of the selected players’ parents. For each entry, we conduct an interview and help a parent form a letter to his or her son, offering memories, accomplishments, advice and a look to the future.

Next up is Sabrina Burton writing to her son, Wes, who should pitch in relief this weekend against Louisville and is a candidate for a midweek starter role.

Dear Wes,

This is surreal. You and I have spent so much time talking and believing in this dream. It’s been rewarding to support you in this pursuit. It’s been my style of parenting to tell you to chase them and hopefully help you with the tools to succeed, but it’s a completely different thing when you see that dream come true. We spent so much time preparing, and now it’s here. I’ll be with you for the first 10 days of the season, with the chance to take it all in and watch you play, and I can’t tell you how fantastic that is to see you in your element, that it will be to see you on that field.

People have asked why go to school thousands of miles from home, but you know, Wes, this was a deliberate process with us. We met with so many schools and wanted you to go away. Los Angeles is a very particular place, and while I’m glad for you to have grown up here, it can be an insular place. I didn’t avail myself to go out of state for college or law school, so we looked across the country with this a goal.

You’d ask me on every trip if I could see myself visiting that particular town or city, and we immediately fell in love with Oxford. Do you remember? We were visiting Ole Miss, Harvard and Michigan all on the same trip, and we sat on the bed at The Graduate in Oxford and just knew it was the place. We still had visits left, and we did those, and everyone was great, but we knew. Even from the moment I walked in the hotel and saw all the pink and there was a standard poodle walking around. I had a feeling.

It was the energy and the enthusiasm. People of all ages were in it together. I’d never seen anything like it at the college level. You were over the moon, and we both love food, so we ate our way through the town. The warmth of the fan base and the town was infectious. And I remember Mike Bianco’s presentation, how he had a plan for my child, and I could see on your face as soon as we walked away from him that it was over. We remained deliberate, but we made the right choice.

You and I have grown up together, and I thank you for how you stay connected with me. As a single parent, working from home, we were always together, sharing a work space and helping each other. Your calls and texts are invaluable to catch up on your days. Dobby the dog even appreciates when you talk to him on speaker phone, though it’s a little sad because he spends the rest of the day looking for you after we hang up.

I’m elated that our postgame chats have continued. Those are special moments I cherish as you call to recount your intrasquads and scrimmages and soon your games. I’ll admit to being a little nervous while you scrimmage since I obviously can’t see the practices, so I stay off social media and wait on you to text your pitching line and then call me.

You’ve made me so proud with your curiosity and your drive and your willingness to put forth effort at new things. You came home from school in third grade and asked for violin lessons because you went on a field trip and heard the first violinist is the captain of the orchestra. So, we got a violin and you made second chair in the highest orchestra behind Grace Alexander, which was only OK since she’s nationally ranked.

And then your shoe business, Wes, is such an example of your work and your imagination for doing the unlikely. It’s one of the reasons I’m confident you’re going to succeed, no matter what happens with baseball.

I bought you the airbrush and you went from selling custom shoes to your friends a week later to dreaming so much bigger. I’ll never forget calling you and you telling me you couldn’t talk because you were on the phone with Kike Hernandez of the Dodgers and then asking me if I could drive you to Dodger Stadium the next afternoon.

[Related: Burton customizes cleats for MLB players]

Your shoes have been in the All-Star Game and the World Series, and I’ve always told you to not follow the crowd. You want to be a professional baseball player, and you don’t go to beauty school if you want to be a chef. You’ll find your way in the world, no matter what happens, and I’ll be with you each step of the way.

It was always going to be baseball for you. When you were seven years old you would ask me questions about where to throw the ball if there were two runners on and one out and a ball was hit to the left side. It wasn’t normal, but it was in your blood. Basketball was my thing, and you were such a big kid, so I built you that basketball court in the yard, striped it and everything, thinking that might be the path.

I came home soon after, and all the kids in the neighborhood are playing baseball on it. You knew what you wanted. I think about Tyler Skaggs. He made it real for you, a Santa Monica Little Leaguer who was drafted and made it. It meant you could do it.

Be true to yourself and stay focused on your goals. It’s advice you don’t need to hear, but I’m a mother so I’m going to say it anyway. This is what you’ve worked for. Bring your full self to it each day and enjoy every minute of it. Be thankful for every opportunity to play the game you’ve loved since you were small. Honor this opportunity. Appreciate the people around you.

I can’t wait to see you and have our postgame chats in person. Dobby says hello.

Love,

Mom