Learning a sport, you don't appreciate the intricacies of the game. In baseball, you start out learning how to throw, catch and hit. That's it. Everything else doesn't matter in the beginning stages of the game. Runners on first and third with one out? Who cares where the ball is SUPPOSED to go? Priority number one is catch the ball; figuring out where to throw it is unimportant to a 7 year old. But to a 26 year old that hasn't played the game in 8 years...I miss the intricacies.
I miss pitching and trying to outsmart or overpower the hitter. He was late on the last fastball outside, maybe he's guessing inside fastball. It's two strikes, maybe he's thinking I'll throw a curve ball in the dirt. If I do throw a curve ball in the dirt, is my catcher going to block it? Or is going to get to the backstop and he's going to be safe at first? Once he gets on first, how long do I hold the ball before throwing it home? Do I quick pitch home, holding the ball long enough not to get called a balk? Or do I wait, and wait, and wait before going home just before the batter calls time?
I miss playing center field, watching where the catcher's going to set up before shifting to where I want to be before the batter swings. I miss the varying chatter before every pitch to support the pitcher. I miss runners challenging my arm, trying to take an extra base or score on a short fly ball to the outfield. I miss do or die situations at the plate where you absolutely have to throw out the runner or the game is over. Please try to score. I DARE you. Do I throw it all the way in the air or do I throw it short and let it take a bounce before getting there?
I miss being on third base with the game on the line and only one out. Make a bad pitch and I'm coming home. Go ahead and try throwing that curve ball in the dirt. Or the fly ball to the outfield that may or may not be deep enough to score on. I remember being on third base with my brother up in extra innings and him hitting a grounder to third base. The third baseman looked at me then turned and threw to first. As soon as he turned, I was breaking towards the plate. The throw was arriving from first when I was coming home. Do I run the catcher over, or do I slide around the tag? The plate wasn't being blocked so I slide to the outside of home and swiped my hand across home in front of the tag, ending the game.
I miss the whole team gathering together at the plate or anywhere else on the field after a walk-off victory. It's nothing better than the pressure of the game being on the line and not knowing what the outcome is going to be. The exuberance and relief that's felt when it's your team that comes out on top, there's no happier moment in sports. There are personal achievements that may make you happy looking back, but the instant gratification of winning and celebrating with the entire team? It's irreplaceable.
But what I miss most about baseball is the time I spent with my dad learning the game. Ever since I was 6, he was there to teach me how to play. Before my mom hurt her back, her and Dad used to play in whiffle ball games with us. After her injury, it was just Dad. The thousands of pitches he threw my brother and I over the years, the hundreds of hours he spent teaching us how to hit, how to pitch will never be forgotten. He was my coach. He knew how to press my buttons to make me mad enough to be better.
I remember when I hit my first home run, it was after a yelling match between the two of us. Every pitch he would throw it harder, and when I yelled at him to slow it down, he told me to just hit the damn ball. I did; over the fence. My anger at him turned to jubilation. My first home run. I put down the bat and ran out the park to get the ball and save it. There's a whole slew of balls I've collected over the years, but that old, mungy one that was completely brown from the dirt stains it had endured over the years is memorable. "March 30, 1996: Andy's 1st Home Run" my mom wrote. He asked if I wanted to hit again once my brother had hit, but I didn't need anymore swings that day. My job was done, and so was his.
When I look back on playing baseball, I always think of a moment with my dad. He was always there to coach me, to support me, and make suggestions. It's a shame that not every kid growing up has that father figure in their life that takes all of their free time and devotes it to their children. Dad set the bar high for us, as strangers would come up to my brother and I after games or at the grocery store and say how great of a ballplayer he was growing up. He broke many pitching records, including the lowest ERA for a pitcher in Virginia as he was selected All-State. That was my goal while playing; to be better than my dad. But now that I'm older, my goal is to be half the father he was.
Thanks for reading my story,
Andy
No comments:
Post a Comment