Keep Your Eye On the Ball

 

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!