This afternoon I watched the final
of the Little League World Series.
Nevada Metro took on the Chinese Taipei team in a game that demonstrated
the talents of these young players of what I consider the best sport in the
World, Baseball!
Taipei’s pitcher was dominant with
his one-hit performance leading Taipei to a 7-0 win over the Nevada team, but
the quality of play, the maturity, and the sportsmanship of all the other
players touched my heart as I watched their talents in action. There were moments, if you watched closely,
occasionally you could see the actual little boy in the player that performed
his athleticism with skill and confidence.
I noticed the impressive skill of the little Taipei catcher as he
backhanded a low inside pitch that even most major leaguers would have probably
let slip by and I also witnessed him discreetly telling a young Nevada player
as he took his position at bat within the batter’s box, that his pants were
unzipped. The Nevada player smiled sheepishly
and tugged at his zipper till it was in its rightful place hoping no one had
noticed. I saw the young Taipei player, standing in the dugout, cheering for
his teammates as he non-apologetically dug for gold. Some might say he
was digging twilight, or he was nose mining or a more scientific
term, picking his nose.
I watched
closely as the Taipei best hitter came to bat, assuming his stance in the
batter’s box. He watched his coach for
the signals and then let the first pitch, a strike, pass him by, willfully
following his coach’s signals to take the first pitch. As the pitcher
began to deliver the second pitch, the Taipei hitter once again glanced at his
coach for the signals and then dug in with noticeable determination. I watched as he stared at the opposing
pitcher as he delivered the pitch. A
fast ball, low and inside. The batter’s
eyes were only focused on the ball as it spun its way toward the plate, and
with a lightning-fast swing, he pulled the ball down the left line, crossing
third base just fair. Three runs were scored as the batter ended up on third
base with a triple.
It took me back to my days of Little League. Dusty fields of sand and red clay. Most did
have grass, albeit mostly crabgrass and dandelions, gracing the outfield and a
few sprigs of grass within the infield, but to us, it was Yankee Stadium. We stood proudly in our mismatched uniforms,
our cap bills bent just like Roger Maris or Mickey Mantle and took our
positions on the field feeling as if we were the best! Yes, we were confident, but nervous as well. As a team we had taken hundreds of practice
grounders and flies in preparation, not to mention batting practice, where I
was constantly coached, “Keep your eye on the ball! Focus!” I apparently had all the mechanics right
except one. The coach would praise my stance, the good extension in my arms,
stepping into the ball for added power, was all perfect he had said, but he
would say I would have a much better batting percentage if I opened my eyes
and focused!
I wanted to be a good player. I didn’t want to be average. I knew my parents were watching! I wanted to make them proud. I wanted to make my brother, my neighbor, my
preacher and my teacher proud. To me, the
World was watching……..me I played second base.
I felt comfortable in that position.
Back then we used wood bats, and the crack of the bat, whether it was a
hot grounder, a snapping line drive, or a soft floating fly ball, was what I
waited for, to prove myself to the World.
Once at bat, I stood confidently in the stance my coach had taught and
stared at the pitcher as he began his windup to deliver his pitch. Before the ball ever left the pitcher’s hand,
I had already decided whether I was going to swing or not. I swung, sometimes missing, sometimes
connecting. I never knew unless I heard
the crack of the wood bat. Crack! I then would open my eyes. Sometimes a foul, sometimes a lazy grounder
and sometimes a floater over the fence!
I loved this game!
One day, after practice, our coach
called me aside. He sat me down and
complimented my fielding abilities and seemed amazed at the accuracy and power
of my throws. I listened and began to
feel really good about myself until he sat in silence for a moment then
questioned me in a whisper, “Do you ever see the ball spinning toward the plate
when you bat? Do you see the print of
the ball as it spins? Do you ever see
the slow arching of the ball as the change-up is delivered? It’s alright, if you don’t, I
understand. It comes naturally for some,
and it is sometimes hard for others, but I wish you could see and feel the
beauty of watching that ball approach, as I.
It floats, almost in slow motion, and the excitement one feels as you
realize it is within the sweet zone of your swing. You watch as the bat connects with that
slowly spinning sphere and it is launched into the air like a rocket with a
deafening crack of the bat! I guess, it’s
kind of like life, keep your eyes on the ball, stay focused and it becomes a
beautiful thing.” With that, the coach
pats me on the shoulder, picks up some stray gear and walks out of the dugout,
leaving me in my thoughts.
Our next game, I was determined to keep
my eyes on the ball. To focus. During the first inning, I had made two good
fielding plays and was feeling on top of the World. I batted seventh in the line-up, and there
was a part of me that dreaded it but I rehearsed in my mind exactly what I was
going to do. My time came, and I took my
stance in the batter’s box. I tapped Homeplate
with my bat, loosely gripping the narrow wooden handle and stared at the
pitcher forty-six feet away as he studied the catcher’s signals. He shook off the first and then began his
windup. I focused, I watched and for the first time in my life, I saw the ball
spinning toward me. It was just like the
coach had said. It was almost like it
was in slow motion and it was coming right toward………..my head! At the last split second, I ducked my head,
otherwise, I would have seen it ricochet off the top of my helmet and into the
umpire’s facemask. “Runner, take your
base!” Yells the umpire as he shakes off
the cobwebs from the slow spinning sphere colliding with his facemask.
I take the base and eventually
score. The only run of the whole
game. I did get to bat two more times
during the game and hit the ball both times.
One, a line-drive to right field and the other a grounder to second
base, which I was thrown out at first. I saw the ball as I focused, all three
times, and as the coach had said it’s a beautiful thing to see.
I played baseball from the age of
seven till I was seventeen. I loved the
sport, and even though I was never a great athlete, I gave it my all. The camaraderie, the friendships that
developed from these experiences I have treasured my whole life and still
connect with many of my teammates sixty-one years later.
As I’ve grown older, I have come to
realize, it wasn’t necessarily the game of baseball, but the camaraderie, the
friendships, the dreams one creates for themselves and yes, waiting for that
one pitch to find that swinging piece of wood by a skinny twelve-year-old boy,
eyes closed, but looking for the stars beyond. Lessons of the game learned, I
became much more focused in life. I now watch life with my eyes open and
focused, just as I learned to watch the ball in the game as a twelve-year-old.
Life is beautiful thing!
