Baseball Ray........

To any that read that ain't a League of Their Own kinda person, apologies - and seeya tomorrow!

Too hard to swing by this time of year without mentioning baseball... Apple Pie, Chevrolet - baseball IS America. There's hardly a man(or women) among us who hasn't at least owned a glove - played catch in the yard or proudly worn some Joe's Auto Parts T-Shirt - or similar in a Little League game...

Baseball Ray. With a family of nine kids next door growing up - hell, our pickup games nearly included every position... Wiffle ball it was - basepaths were worn.. First base was a small piece of plywood.. Second base was the water meter.. Third base and home were each simply a cutout thingy of dirt.. Hours upon hours spent - only to be interrupted by mom's cookies and Koolaid - or, the Flanigan's dinner bell..
We measured exactly how far it was to hit a home run across the street - and wrote the distance on the curb with chalk...

I was liberally allowed to ride my bike roughly a mile to the City Park once I turned nine. Most change is for the good - sad to say that probably doesn't happen much any more. Again, hours upon hours we'd play - honing our skills - hell, I never remember getting tired. We'd use a Magic Marker to label the back of our T Shirts "Musial" or "Mantle", "Maris" or similar.. We never correlated baseball players and money. Perhaps another change for the worse.

Buddies of mine would 'fatten up' in the air conditioning on game day so they wouldn't be 'spent' for that night's game.. HA. Nomme. I'm not real fond of quoting ole 'Huck Finn' Roy Williams, but once in talking about his college basketball team he remarked "heck, they're too young to be tired." So I ripped, all day, game day or not.

Baseball ends, kinda. At some point, one's participation as a player comes to a halt. Mine probably went about ten years too long (or so I've heard) but just like anything - it ends. Some quit the first time a fly ball lands on their cheekbone. Some stop playing after striking out twelve consecutive times.. Some stop when they become of the age the pitcher is now throwing curveballs.. For others, cars become more important.. or work.. or college..

Somewhere between Ex#1 and Ex#2, I was playing two nights of fastpitch softball per week, two nights of slowpitch softball per week, and then played in tournaments on weekends. I hardly knew what Tide soap was letalone which of those bigass contraptions was the washer and which was the dryer - but somehow I always managed to have the correct uniform on, and it was clean.

If that wasn't enough - on the rare nights/weekends I didn't play I umpired. My buddy scheduled the umpires - and when wifey numero uno went Hasta La Vista I said "I want to do women's softball games, and only women's softball games."

Funny, met wifey #2 on a softball bench. (#1 played basketball for me). Geez, I reckon I'd better not play any more sports.

One Christmas I got an electric radio - and nowadays - that isn't a desired gift - but I cherished falling asleep to Cardinal broadcasts at night. The year after Roger Maris hit 61 home runs - he and Mantle made a movie.. I rode my bike to the Plaza Theater to watch.. useda nickel in my pocket to call mom to see if I could stay and watch it again. Addict I guess. Baseball is innocent. A good thing.

Coaching, spectating. Wow. Fun. I know for many it can be miserable - but for me it was wonderful.. I love watching little turds play - even if I don't know anyone playing. Fun to see them learn, handle situations, not handle situations..

Age 6, coach pitch. We, as coaches - were allowed to be placed out on the field to verbally assist the kids. I remember this tons of fun guy - and I wouldn't say tons of fun except he was an ass, and he had a bigass, so we'll call him tons of fun. Tons of fun was placed behind the shortstop - looking ridiculous in his too tight coaching shorts. At some point in the game a very hard grounder was hit up the middle... beyond second base.. headed directly for the center fielder.. tons of fun rumbled toward the kid as the ball approached... oops... right between his legs - and it still had momentum - rolling further and further into the outfield.. as the kid chased it.. tons of fun ran stride for stride with him SCREAMING at him.. poor kid.. I bet that is one he'll remember forever - and I bet his playing days were shortened - in large part (perhaps pun intended) by tons of fun.

At age 45, in a vote regarding my continuance as a player, I lost 1-1... Haha. Single now, and ya know what? I was leaving a restaurant the other day and they had a flier on "Over 50 Softball Leagues"... Hell yes. I just might do it.

Ya just don't see kids outside playing baseball/wiffleball any more. Wonder how come. I never understood the fascination of video games. (In part false because I did enjoy Frogger and Bart Simpson!). To me, the old codger, nothing beats baseball for a kid. Every town has "The Park"... It's a town kinda thing... Almost every person has an affinity to a Major League Baseball team.. Even chicks who hate baseball surely enjoyed Field of Dreams - even if only because Costner strutted around in his tight jeans...

Baseball is around the corner again.. I love baseball.. It's American.. It's family.. It's learning.. It's challenging.. It's rewarding... It teaches hard lessons.. It promotes camaraderie.. It gives us the opportunity to observe and react to good behaviors and bad behaviors..

Then again, one of the wives, can't remember which - said "you know Victor, you get really whoopie excited about some things - and you just don't understand that perhaps other people aren't always in agreeance with you." Hmmm.. Mebbe she's right. Don't care. I love baseball.