Baseball glory

There was always a game to be played, regardless of the weather. Snowing? Let’s play football. Raining? Let’s play football. Sunny? Go get your glove.

In the house where I was raised, I had the privilege of having two brothers. I was the middle child. It was always all about baseball. We had one of those very large, black satellite dishes in our backyard that would actually move to pick up signals. One day we stumbled across a channel that was nothing but baseball stats. We called it the “blue channel” because the background of the channel layout was blue. My brothers and I would sit in front of that TV for hours just to see who had the most doubles in the American league as opposed to the National league. Who was currently leading the National league in stolen base attempts. We were in Michigan so were all about the American league however, when National league stats began to roll, we did not turn our heads by any means. I mean come on, we gotta see what Willie McGee and Vince Coleman are doing.

Given the way I was raised, baseball became a common ground for everyone in the house. There was always a topic of discussion, especially in the summer months. We played outside everyday. We played on organized teams that were sponsored by area businesses. When I was in the 8th grade, I was playing in a league that was called “The Babe Ruth league.” This is the league where we finally got to move to the medium sized field across the street. There was actually a home run fence! It was 230 feet to dead center. The little league field’s fence was about 1250 feet dead center because it was in a field far off in the distance down the hill on a farm. Anyways, this was exciting for me to get to play on a more manicured field with a fence and dugouts. Also, this was the year that 2 players from each team (7 teams) at the end of the year would be chosen to represent their town in the All-Star Tournament. As you might guess, I was chosen.

I played 3rd base. I also pitched a few games for my team but there was better pitchers once I was grouped with the All-Star squad. During our first tournament game, I started the game at 3rd. It was a fairly quiet first 3 innings for me down at the hot corner. Nothing too hot so far. Then it happened. The moment that is sketched in my head as the highlight of my youth baseball career.

It is the 4th inning. Runners on 1st and 2nd with 1 out. There is a lefty at the plate. To this point, this is their biggest threat to score any runs thus far in the game. The game is tied 0-0. On the very first pitch to this guy, he lays down a perfect bunt down the 3rd base line. I mean, this ball is horizontal with the chalk of the base-path all the way down the line. I was playing in the grass so I got a good jump on the ball. Just before I got to the ball, I glanced up at the runner heading to 1st and realized I gotta bare-hand this ball. I reached down with my right hand, scooped it up off the line as I am still running and side-armed that ball with every ounce of strength I could muster; given the awkward throwing position I was in and gunned him down at 1st in a bang-bang play. Now, this play is only half over. The runner who was at 1st is rounding 2nd at this point and the runner who was at 2nd is rounding third. The catcher ran off to back up the first baseman after the bunt was layed out. I was in a virtual dead heat with the base-runner to get to home plate. Luckily, I was already running towards home due to the bunt. The first baseman threw the ball towards home plate just hoping I could get to it in time. I caught the ball at home and tagged out the runner just as he slid across the plate, I got him on his helmet. 3 outs and the crowd cheered. Yay! I was congratulated by my teammates back in the dugout. I sat down on the bench and looked out onto the field and just thought to myself “damn, that was amazing.”