Full Disclosure – I’m a life-long Red Sox fan. Grew up HATING Lou Piniella, Mickey Rivers, Graig Nettles, etc. Knew Carlton Fisk’s and Rick Burleson’s batting stances perfectly. I grew up just loving baseball, playing it as much as I could, up through Ed Carleton, a year or two of high school, and one last year of summer ball before college. Damn, I loved baseball.
Yet, I find myself, occasionally, and with little fanfare, thinking about that dumb, yet wonderful play Derek Jeter made by COMPLETELY ANTICIPATING what was going to happen on the throw back to the infield, racing to the exact spot he had to get to, just in time to cut off the wild throw from the outfield, and flipping the ball to his catcher to apply the swipe tag on Giambi – “Yer OUT!!” And, I think to myself, “I HAD ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS” – only nobody saw it, nobody cared, and the a$$hole coach pulled me the following inning so he could put one of his football player cronies into the game. I was crushed, but I’ve often thought of that as my “Derek Jeter” moment – the play that would NEVER get mentioned in the box score, but the one that saved a big run from scoring. To me, the knowledge of the game, the instinct of what to look for and where to be at the right time, that is what made it that much more memorable for me – kids don’t really learn that anymore. Coaches don’t really teach that. Now it’s all “look at my personal shoulder bag with two titanium bats sticking out of it.” I like the old times . . .
Here’s my moment. Please feel free to share yours. Whether it’s middle age, my inner Al Bundy taking hold, or simply the excitement of another baseball season about to begin, I’m not quite sure. I remember it as if it were yesterday . . .
I’m playing left field. The oldest kid on the summer ball league for high school players – a way for them to keep in shape and have some fun. For me, I’m a newly-minted high school graduate – on my way to the college intramural softball league. The players look at me like the old guy (all of 17). The coach – he doesn’t think much, and doesn’t realize that I’m actually playing as hard as I can, not only because I won’t be playing anymore after this season, but also because I actually care. There’s a runner on first. I see him bluff a steal on one pitch, and then notice that our second baseman doesn’t have a clue, and the third baseman is way off the bag. Any base hit to the outfield and the runner is at third, no problem. The pitcher fires to first, and it gets by the first baseman. The runner takes off, rounds second and is on his way to third. By the time the runner hits second, I’m already racing to back up 3rd base – I have a feeling our first baseman is going to fire one across the diamond to try to nail the guy at 3rd. The good thing about anticipation is that either way, things tend to work out. The ball hits in front of the bag, the 3rd baseman completely misses it, and the runner rounds 3rd on his way home. He didn’t notice the “old guy” in left, with the ball in his mitt, standing on the 3rd base line in short left field, having backed up the play. I fire the ball to our catcher, who immediately runs the guy back toward 3rd, makes an easy toss to our 3rd baseman, who tags the guy out. Score one for the “old guy.”
Food for thought – us “old guys” collect enough of these memories – we could write a book (or maybe some youth coach will happen upon them and get back to actually "coaching!"
Yet, I find myself, occasionally, and with little fanfare, thinking about that dumb, yet wonderful play Derek Jeter made by COMPLETELY ANTICIPATING what was going to happen on the throw back to the infield, racing to the exact spot he had to get to, just in time to cut off the wild throw from the outfield, and flipping the ball to his catcher to apply the swipe tag on Giambi – “Yer OUT!!” And, I think to myself, “I HAD ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS” – only nobody saw it, nobody cared, and the a$$hole coach pulled me the following inning so he could put one of his football player cronies into the game. I was crushed, but I’ve often thought of that as my “Derek Jeter” moment – the play that would NEVER get mentioned in the box score, but the one that saved a big run from scoring. To me, the knowledge of the game, the instinct of what to look for and where to be at the right time, that is what made it that much more memorable for me – kids don’t really learn that anymore. Coaches don’t really teach that. Now it’s all “look at my personal shoulder bag with two titanium bats sticking out of it.” I like the old times . . .
Here’s my moment. Please feel free to share yours. Whether it’s middle age, my inner Al Bundy taking hold, or simply the excitement of another baseball season about to begin, I’m not quite sure. I remember it as if it were yesterday . . .
I’m playing left field. The oldest kid on the summer ball league for high school players – a way for them to keep in shape and have some fun. For me, I’m a newly-minted high school graduate – on my way to the college intramural softball league. The players look at me like the old guy (all of 17). The coach – he doesn’t think much, and doesn’t realize that I’m actually playing as hard as I can, not only because I won’t be playing anymore after this season, but also because I actually care. There’s a runner on first. I see him bluff a steal on one pitch, and then notice that our second baseman doesn’t have a clue, and the third baseman is way off the bag. Any base hit to the outfield and the runner is at third, no problem. The pitcher fires to first, and it gets by the first baseman. The runner takes off, rounds second and is on his way to third. By the time the runner hits second, I’m already racing to back up 3rd base – I have a feeling our first baseman is going to fire one across the diamond to try to nail the guy at 3rd. The good thing about anticipation is that either way, things tend to work out. The ball hits in front of the bag, the 3rd baseman completely misses it, and the runner rounds 3rd on his way home. He didn’t notice the “old guy” in left, with the ball in his mitt, standing on the 3rd base line in short left field, having backed up the play. I fire the ball to our catcher, who immediately runs the guy back toward 3rd, makes an easy toss to our 3rd baseman, who tags the guy out. Score one for the “old guy.”
Food for thought – us “old guys” collect enough of these memories – we could write a book (or maybe some youth coach will happen upon them and get back to actually "coaching!"
