I’m going to start this inning with the pre-game show. You know, like they do before games today on the TV or radio. Just a bit of information that really doesn’t have anything to do with the outcome of the game, but is the “human side” of it. As I said in the last blog, I got my start with this game, in the back yard, playing catch with my dad (and sometimes mom). Of course, being from the mid-west, the weather didn’t always cooperate and my dad was working 10 hour shifts during the week and 6 to 8 hours on Saturdays. We didn’t always get as much time as I would have liked but I didn’t complain. I remember my dad celebrating a raise he got with his job! Yes, a whole nickel an hour! That meant he got about $3.50 more on his weekly paycheck. Can you imagine being thrilled with that! A whole three and a half bucks a week.
I remember playing catch with dad and almost always being told to “keep my eyes on my target’ and “try to hit me in the chest”, Never seemed that easy to me no matter how hard I tried. I threw a lot of balls over his head or at his feet or out of his reach to either side. I don’t ever remember him quitting though. We usually ended the session with dad throwing pop-ups that seemed to vanish in the clouds. I remember catching my share of them. That was a blast!
I don’t remember how old I was when I became a “little leaguer”, it must have been when I was five or six, but I remember going to Lion’s Field for a ‘meet and great’ with all the teams and their coaches. That year my coaches were my dad and Mr. ‘P’. His son is the only teammate I remember from that season. We were in the Farmer’s League which was later called the minor leagues. I think that may have been the only season my dad was able to coach a team. He almost never got home before 6:00 pm on week days and was not available for Saturday practice until after 4:00 pm.
I don’t remember any part of the 3 seasons I spent in the minor leagues except being thrown out trying to sneak into third base while the pitcher wasn’t looking. Guess I wasn’t as fast as I thought I was! Remember my dad asking if I knew “who had the ball” when I decided to run. I knew who had it. Just didn’t think the pitcher was paying attention.
After three years in the minor’s, I aged out and moved up to the “Major” leagues.