PLAY BALL

Baseball was on hold for awhile because of a virus...my weekends were strange without a game of any kind on TV...But it's back and watching a full stadium last night I thought about how I loved baseball as a kid – I still do and watching the first games of the new season with heart full of hope that for my team, the Phillies – this will be their year…and my mind drifts back to my first game of organized baseball.

 “Your grandfather was a good player,” I can hear my grandmother Ethel saying that over and over as we would watch the black and white flicker on our Motorola TV as the Phillies waged a battle against the Brooklyn Dodgers – the bums.  And I made up my mind right there and then I was going to be good too – but how?  The big kids in the neighborhood never let me actually play with them on the gavel and stony field with the rag-tag chicken wire backstop at the end of third street.  But I played in my mind a lot though.  And I actually wanted to be a first baseman, a position that most kids never wanted to be, but I thought was the best as I could touch the ball at least a couple times each inning.

I could not wait to be old enough to play on a Little League team and especially get a real uniform - anything with a uniform always was a wish for every kid in my circle of pals...The wait seems unending.

   But the day came like all things we wait for – I saw a small article in the Millville Daily Republican – “ATTENTION SEVEN YEAR OLDS - LITTLE LEAGUE TRYOUTS THURSDAY NIGHT... Report to the High School field, 5:30 PM!  Yikes this was it – a try out.  Unlike today, all kids had to “make the team” – today everyone makes the team, everyone plays, everyone wins…and I sincerely believe this is detrimental to learning about life..that’s not how it was nor should be today, but that's another story.  The real beauty of trying to plays sports is that one learns that it takes hard work to succeed in a game, in life.  Today we teach our kids many different lessons – that everyone can be   “good” at everything.   But we never teach them how ...That’s the shame of it  – but I digress…back to my memory.

     All week before the tryout, after school, I tossed a tennis ball against the garage door and fielded wicked grounders.  Bang, toss, bang toss – hour after hour I practiced.  (But I was really afraid about trying out... I had never fielded a real baseball or batted one either.  I asked my grandfather - pop to play catch with me two nights in a row. We did until it got too dark to see the ball and he showed me how to hold the bat.   “Choke up, choke up”, he would said…you’ll hit more if you choke up! And most of all don't try to kill it!” This was Good advice I would soon learn.

     I was nervous all day Thursday secretly hoping it would rain on the weekend and give me a week more to practice.  But the sun was shining Saturday as I prepared to face one of the best challenges of my young life. I dressed like a matador – donning my jeans and white tee-shirt with the hope that I would come home wearing a shirt with a message that advertised a sponsor's logo. Pop drove me to the field.  

     There were many kids there from all over town and to my dismay none from my South Millville pals that I knew.  South Millville boys weren’t usually into anything that seemed too organized.  We played a pickup game 7 days a week with the big kids choosing sides and making the rules.

     I signed in and was told to join a group according to the positions we wanted to play.  There were lots who wanted to be pitchers and shortstops; just a couple joined me at first base.  We were told to stand in a line by the “coach” (somebody's dad I guessed) . He started by winging a pretty hard grounder at each of us.  I stood in the short until it was my turn – yikes the ball game a lot faster than off the garage wall.  I awkwardly dove for it and missed it.  The coach frowned.  “Here son...Take another one,” he yelled.  “Oh no!”- this one went through my legs and rolled away.  “NEXT,” he yelled.

    This was not going well.   Next we got a chance to hit and I started to sweat.  I had never really hit a hardball from anyone except pop - who I suspected tossed me easy ones to make me feel good.  An older kid who was already on a team pitched to us and my turn came much too soon.  I did my version of "Casey at the Bat'' which I had learned from watching TV.  I took a couple of practice swings and then with the bat at the ready the kid threw the pitch - Bam – the first one smacked the catcher’s glove – I didn’t even see.  Bam – another one whizzed by.  The coach yelled, “Come on kid just take a couple of swings – you can do it!”  The pitcher went into a Dizzy Dean wind up and threw a wild one high and outside – I lunged for it clear across the plate and landed in a pile outer of the batter’s box.  As I got up another of the coaches put his arm on my shoulder and urged me to walk with him to the side of the diamond.  He said, “Never played before huh?”  I said, “Not really sir…as tears started to roll down my cheeks.  He continued, “Now don’t worry, no need to cry – you're a big kid and I am going to pick you for the a Farm Team and we are going to learn to hit and field and by next year you will be a started for in the big kid's league – how’s that"?  I chirped, “Gee that would be great, but do I get a uniform”/  He smiled and said, "Not this year – but you will get a nice green tee shirt with a number on the back and a new green hat".  

   That was a start I thought as the tears stopped. And ironically, that summer I played on Chubb's Insurance a bit of an embarrassing team name for me to wear around as I was a bit "chubby"... this got a lot of laughs from my South Millville boys...But I put up with it and I learned the game. 

   The next summer I was picked to play for a regular Little League team - the Millville National Bank and I have to say -  hit a bunch of tape measure home runs that are still mentioned when I see old friend at reunions and our conversations turn to talk about sports and the good old days..."I'll never forget that homer you hit to center field...it went a mile Cal...It went a mile..." 

     My summer in the farm league made me a difference,,,made learn the basics with led to beging a much better player - I earned my hot and warm wool uniform the next year.  And learned some lessons about life which stayed with me far beyond those summer games of long ago...

     And I got to play first base.