I played baseball until I graduated from high school. Each spring, I gathered with a group of my friends to practice on a dusty field. I wish there had been a counter on my bat because I must have swung that Louisville Slugger at least a million times.
Baseball is a game of hurry up and wait, but it resonated with me because I came to be good at it.
The field behind on which we played was behind the grammar school. It was red clay. During the long dry days of summer, it often got dusty. Stealing bases and sliding on that field changed the color of uniforms from light slate to sepia.
Even though that was sixty years ago, I can close my eyes and smell the leather of my old glove.
I wasn't much of a long-ball hitter, but I was fast enough to get a lot of singles and doubles.
After little league, I moved up to the pony league where the competition was much stiffer. The guys I played against were often very good. Dreams of making it to the "bigs" kept young men on their toes. They practiced hard, even during the offseason.
I remember the last pony-league game I played. It was an Allstars game, and I was the starting catcher. Since it was the final game of the season, the coach told us all that he planned to play everyone in the dugout.
I started the game and batted sixth in the rotation. I started off the second inning. The first pitch was a fastball on the outside corner. My swing was right out of the training manual. The ball sailed over the center-field fence.
Halfway through the game, I came up to bat for the last time of my career. The same pitcher threw the same pitch. Again, I knocked the ball out of the park. I heard a mother from the opposing teams say, "Oh no! Not again!"
We won that game by a half a dozen runs. It was a few moments of my life that I will always remember.
Baseball is a game of hurry up and wait, but it resonated with me because I came to be good at it.
The field behind on which we played was behind the grammar school. It was red clay. During the long dry days of summer, it often got dusty. Stealing bases and sliding on that field changed the color of uniforms from light slate to sepia.
Even though that was sixty years ago, I can close my eyes and smell the leather of my old glove.
I wasn't much of a long-ball hitter, but I was fast enough to get a lot of singles and doubles.
After little league, I moved up to the pony league where the competition was much stiffer. The guys I played against were often very good. Dreams of making it to the "bigs" kept young men on their toes. They practiced hard, even during the offseason.
I remember the last pony-league game I played. It was an Allstars game, and I was the starting catcher. Since it was the final game of the season, the coach told us all that he planned to play everyone in the dugout.
I started the game and batted sixth in the rotation. I started off the second inning. The first pitch was a fastball on the outside corner. My swing was right out of the training manual. The ball sailed over the center-field fence.
Halfway through the game, I came up to bat for the last time of my career. The same pitcher threw the same pitch. Again, I knocked the ball out of the park. I heard a mother from the opposing teams say, "Oh no! Not again!"
We won that game by a half a dozen runs. It was a few moments of my life that I will always remember.
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Another picture I found this week was one I don't think I've ever seen. I'm on the second row in the center of the picture. |
What cute bunch of ball players. I love seeing your old photos.
ReplyDeleteLisa
How lucky you are to have the photos to trigger a waltz/run/slide down memory lane.
ReplyDeleteI was not much of a ball player. I lived in Long Island where the game was La Crosse. We moved to Jersey (no La Crosse) and I was Pony League age. I had never played hardball with fast pitching and tended to step in the bucket and struck out a lot, Still I had two doubles on ground balls over first base (good contact but swung late) I did not play much; for the season I was 2 for 7, and in the field I was one for two, both hard liners, I ran in and then jumped up, one stuck one didn't. I remember all that, I can only imagine how seared into your memory those two home runs must be.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed your memories, I never did any organized sports but I enjoyed watching the kids and grand kids. I could only imagine hitting a home run in a winning game and it be the last, what a memory!
ReplyDeleteTake care and be safe, I am hoping this thing is running down to the last inning!
Sherry & jack
What a sweet memory of your childhood.
ReplyDeleteHugs, Julia
That's a good memory to hang on to, especially this year when we have no baseball games to look forward to. My boys played when they were young and I still heae them tell the tales of who got the most injuries when the slid into the bases. They like to brag about who got the most. Not my favorite memory but one of theirs. Ha !
ReplyDeleteA great memory, I have no such memories, me and sport do not mix
ReplyDeleteWhat a fond memory and love the picture. You could talk with my brother who loves baseball..that’s an understatement as he has a great baseball card collection and has worked with baseball in years past.
ReplyDelete