For Love of the Game

When I told my hubby that I wanted to do a blog about baseball, his response was "How original."  When I then told him my title, once again I heard "How original."  Yes, I know that there was a movie about baseball with Kevin Costner entitled "For Love of the Game."  He has an annoying ability to remember a lot of movie quotes and then to quote them when I don't really want to hear them.

"Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full."

"That's all I have to say about that."

And the worst:  "Yes Mrs. McLintock!, Of course, Mrs. McLintock, Indeed Mrs. McLintock!"

But I digress.

I wanted to do a blog about baseball because it is almost Father's Day and because I do have a love for the game because of my dad. 

A recent survey showed that baseball is America's second favorite sport, behind football.  The survey also revealed that baseball's popularity increased with the age ranges.  I think this is directly related to the memories that a person has related to the sport.   Although I am not in the Baby Boomer generation of the survey, I am sure they remember pick-up games in sandlots or fields with their buddies. It was just fun.

I grew up watching, and loving, the Big Red Machine. I was so obsessed with that team, I can probably still tell you all the starting players' names and positions.   I collected Topps baseball cards for years, and still have them today.   I eagerly looked forward to walking to Ralph's, the little country store just down the road from our house, to get a pack of cards.   I can still remember the smell of the gum and cardboard when opening the package.  I worked hard for 25 cents with hopes of getting a Johnny Bench or Pete Rose card.  They were my role models.  I know that Pete Rose fell from grace and has lost (at this time) any hope of being in the Hall of Fame.  But one cannot deny his playing ability and his hustle; that is why he was nicknamed "Charlie Hustle".  And Johnny Bench was the reason I wanted to play catcher on my softball teams.  Even at a young age, I recognized that it was desirable for someone to give 100% effort in whatever he does.

My love for the majors then grew into a love for the minors.  Growing up not too far from Nashville gave us the opportunity to watch the Sounds a few times, and I am currently hoping to retire and be an usher for the Huntsville Stars one day.   I love the atmosphere at a minor league park.  The fans talk about the players as if they are their neighbors.  The parks are smaller, and therefore, closer to the field and the action.  Almost any night will find a promotion taking place with cheaper tickets or some kind of giveaway.   And I love some of the team names.  My favorite crazy names are the Pensacola Blue Wahoos, the Savannah Sand Gnats, and the Montgomery Biscuits.  When I go to a minor league park, I like to think that I am experiencing baseball like it was in the old days, when guys didn't play for money, but because they enjoyed the camaraderie and just plain ol' playin' ball.

But really I love Little League.  Not travel ball, but real, boys-of-summer, kid-pitch, base-stealing, baseball.   The batters try to emulate their heroes with their swings and stances and are so humorous at times.  I truly enjoy watching an intense 9 year old catcher who thinks he can make that throwdown to second.  The look on the players' faces after they slide into home and score, even though there was no need to slide, is priceless, as well as the moan from the mom who has to bleach those white pants-AGAIN.  And what is better than to see a little feller hustle down the first base line and be safe after the crowd is convinced he is out with the dribbler to the pitcher?  Only see him crush one over the fence when he gets older.

I choose to ignore the overbearing parents in the stands that can take away from my fun.  I prefer rather to remind myself that while I am enjoying watching my friends' kids play baseball, my dad is doing the same thing in a small town in Tennessee, just like we did when I was growing up.  It was the social event of the evening, and it was definitely the best place to get a hot dog and a snow cone --  if you brought the foul ball to the concession stand.  And I know there are countless hundreds across the country doing the exact same thing.

You may be wondering about the baseball team picture that I have posted.  The picture was taken of a baseball team at Clark AFB in the Philippines around the spring of 1963.  My dad helped coach these kids.   I remember asking him when I was little "How did y'all coach them, if they didn't speak English?"   Apparently, the players were a mix of American and Filipinos on the base, but he said they just kinda figured it out.  Baseball provided a way for unity between these two cultures, which I think is just awesome.  

So I want to say "Thank you" to all of my friends and former Bible class students that keep the spirit of baseball alive and provide me the opportunity to wax nostalgic every spring.

"Play ball!"