Tag: baseball

The Happiest Animal in the World

The team made its way out to left field for our post-game meeting. There was an obvious mix of enthusiasm among its members. Some jogged, still showing the hustle after the game that their coaches had been preaching all season. Others ambled more slowly than rush hour traffic in midtown.

I couldn’t blame them for feeling listless; we’d just lost 12-0.

The boys knelt or sat cross-legged in the outfield and promptly began pulling out blades of grass while they waited for my coaching partner and me. We exchanged some brief thoughts about who had earned the game ball and walked out to join the team.

“Look,” I began, “I know it’s hard to think about positives after we just lost a game like that.”

A few of the players smiled ruefully as I continued. I mentioned their progress in working together as a team, including some players who played out of position in that game. I pointed out that two of our better players had not been available. And I added that we had played hard against our opponents, who were the best team in the league.

I went on to say that Memorial Day Weekend was essentially our All Star Break. We had passed the mid-point of the season and wouldn’t have another game for a full week. I encouraged the players to come to practice in a few days ready to work, but also to put tonight’s game behind them. I had just finished reminding them that, in our league, everyone makes the playoffs when our starting catcher raised his hand.

“E, you have something to add?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to face his teammates.

“We have to be like goldfish.” Continue reading “The Happiest Animal in the World”

The Best Part of a Little League Grand Slam

It wasn’t the hit.

The metal bat made a solid ping as it sent the baseball soaring toward the vine-covered fence in right-center field. I’d heard the sound before, mostly when watching the Little League World Series or college baseball games on television. I heard it occasionally during my son’s games in person too, though less often. This moment notwithstanding, pitchers his age often struggle to find the strike zone, which means the batters are less likely to have the chance to connect so directly.

It wasn’t the swing.

Long gone are the days when he would amble over to home plate, take his stance and bring his bat around with the faint hope of making contact. Now he walks up with a purpose, plants his cleats firmly in the dirt and sways back and forth slightly while the pitcher sets. He raises the bat high over his back shoulder, drawing little “O’s” in the air as he waits for the delivery. He takes a step toward the mound and swings over the plate, extending his arms and following through. I admire his form and hope that I looked that smooth swinging the bat when I was his age. Continue reading “The Best Part of a Little League Grand Slam”

Swinging For the Fences

He pulled on his slightly-too-small helmet, wincing as he tugged it over his ears. We had been saying for weeks that he needed a new one – he was still using the same helmet he got when he started playing baseball three years ago – but life got in the way and we hadn’t been able to make it happen. I helped him slip on the batting gloves, holding the faded white fabric steady so he could push his hands in. He stretched and wiggled his fingers, adjusting for comfort, and held his hand out for me to tighten the Velcro base. He hoisted his bat out of his bag as we went over the details of his stance one last time. I gave him a smile and a few good-natured knocks on his helmet before he made the short walk to the batters box. He set his feet, bent his knees and lifted the bat behind him, elbow pointing directly back toward the umpire, just as we had discussed.

Three pitches went by and he made the same short walk back to the dugout.

His name wasn’t Casey and we weren’t in Mudville.

E had struck out. Continue reading “Swinging For the Fences”

Boys Just Need to Have Fun

He crouched slightly, a few feet away from third base, hands on his knees in his “ready position,” and waited.

The ground balls came to him faster than he was accustomed, which was to be expected coming off the bat of a coach instead of other seven-year-olds. He fielded each one cleanly, though, getting his glove down to the ground and squeezing the ball as it hit the webbing. He popped up quickly after each catch and fired as hard as he could across the field to throw out the imaginary runners at first.

Not one throw reached on the fly. Continue reading “Boys Just Need to Have Fun”

It’s [Supposed To Be] the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Spring has always been my favorite time of year.

It’s not just the literal return of warmth to the air, though I appreciate walking outside without feeling like Queen Elsa has moved to the New York area and decided that people would look better without their outer layer of skin. It’s not just about seeing the trees beginning to bud, the flowers starting to bloom and the general renewal of life around me. It’s not even about the fact that spring means my birthday is coming.

Since I was a child, the arrival of spring has always meant one thing: baseball. Continue reading “It’s [Supposed To Be] the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”

The Gift

“Wait, where is E?” T asked.

We had come to Citi Field to celebrate E’s birthday and to see the Cubs play the Mets.1 A baseball stadium was never a good place to lose a child, but especially not on his birthday.

We scanned our group quickly. My brother, his wife and their daughter were sitting in the row in front of us and my youngest brother, his wife and their young son were another row down. My mother and her husband were in that row, as well. I kept moving my head from side to side, trying to crane my neck around S, who was standing on my lap and dancing with the music blaring through the PA system, but there was no sign of E. Continue reading “The Gift”

Peace

It’s been said that a picture is worth a thousand words. In this case, the picture is worth just over 450. For day three of the week, I thought I’d try something a little different from my usual essays. I’d love to hear what you think, positive, negative or anywhere in the middle. Enjoy!

A soft breeze drifts through the backyard, drawing a slight rustle from the leaves in the neighbors’ trees. The trees that used to tower above the yard, whose leafy tendrils had formed a canopy that practically blocked out the sun entirely, have been felled. One massive stump is now a work table, currently holding smaller blocks of wood whose future use has yet to be determined. The other two still reach about ten feet high but their branches have been replaced by a single wooden beam that crosses the space between them. A swing hangs down in the middle, a trapeze and pair of rings to its left.  Continue reading “Peace”

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