Spring training games began this week and baseball once again returned to the fields and parks in Arizona and Florida. As winter fades and the winds bring just a hint of what is yet to come; hundreds of young athletes gather together to play a child’s game for fun and profit. I have always dreamed that I was one of them.
For as long as I can remember, I have played and followed this fascinating little game. I can still vividly recall walking to one of the many baseball fields in our neighborhood, with a group of my friends, where we would play pick-up ball for hours on end. Those games almost always concluded when the streetlights came on, because that is when our parents told us we had to go home. We always kept score, although it never really mattered who won and we played with a spirit and joy that only young kids with dreams of the big leagues can fully understand. Our heroes were Mays, Mantle, Cash, Yastremski and Berra. We listened to the games on our transistor radios and every Saturday, we watched the Game of the Week on our black and white television sets. We all vowed that each of us would one day be playing on that very special stage. My dream was to play center field for the Detroit Tigers.
As the years passed by, so did our dreams of actually playing baseball. Jobs, relationships and yes, our limited baseball skills, got in the way and we slowly developed other interests and desires. However, I never truly lost my dream and managed to still remain involved in the game through coaching, public address announcing and attending every game I could squeeze into my schedule. I also go to games when I am on the road for business There is rarely a day that goes by where I do not watch a game on television or catch it on the radio while I am in the car. I remain fascinated by all that baseball provides, even as I inch closer to my retirement.
How can you not love a game that, theoretically, does not ever have to end? There is no time clock to beat and no insipid tie-breaking or overtime rules to contend with. All you have to do is score one more run than your opponent,while getting them to make 27 outs and you are the victor. If the score is tied after nine innings, the game continues until someone wins; no matter how long that takes, or how many players remain on your bench. The game goes on and on until someone finally wins. Of further interest is the fact that baseball is also the only game in America where the team without the ball does all of the scoring. How special is that?
Baseball is truly unique among all other sporting events. I believe the late George Carlin said it best in his marvelous routine on the differences between football and baseball. As Carlin jokes, “Football is played on a gridiron, with sacks, blitzes and penalties. Baseball is played on a diamond, with errors, walks and fly balls.” Football is played in a stadium, while baseball is played in a park. Football players where a helmet, while Baseball players don a cap. Baseball harkens back to a slower and quieter time when radio was the only way to catch a game and the menu at the ballpark was mostly hot dogs, peanuts and popcorn and Cracker Jacks was a much-anticipated treat.
Baseball always brings back special memories for me,beginning when pitchers and catchers first report in late February. For me, this event is the first harbinger of Spring and with it, the unlimited promise of 162 marvelous games to come for my favorite team. I can dream of a World Series victory once again and fondly recall that rocky sandlot where ten good friends played game after game; until the streetlights warned us we had to go home. Who says you cannot go home again? Baseball players do it every game when they touch home with the winning run. Going home is always special and any game that has that as its ultimate goal is a game to be admired.