The coffee has taken effect.....yeah....
Before I begin, I would like to congratulate my younger brother Dr G. Last night he was inducted into our high school hall of fame....well done, kiddo.
Back to the beginning.....as my mind clears, I will share with you the excitement (yes, it was exciting) of the 7th and 8th grade seasons. As you know, unless a player is a major "stud", he does not get into a varsity game in front of an 8th grader. There is a pecking order. The kids who are relegated to the bench are given the following tasks....keep the bats upright along the fence....keep a pitch count for the pitcher...pick up the bat after the batter hits at home plate.....maintain the book (delegated to a kid who could pay attention to the game).....and the worst activity or job (in my book) was to chase down the foul balls when they were hit into the woods. My mother's squeamish mind wanders to tics, snakes, bugs, mosquitoes, and so on. Yet, the ball chasing was a favorite activity since it released the kids from the bench to move around....even if it was to dig a ball or two out of a mud pile. Heaven forbid if the runner came back without the ball.....it was a Catholic school and they had a ball budget to maintain.
Some of my best memories of 7th grade were of the family sitting together in the outfield. My nephew M was an 8th grader on the team. He started in outfield and pitched as another left hander. My brother in law Big M attended every game. He would come to the field with a plastic bag of sunflower seeds and gatorade for Little M. Then he would set his chair up next to mine and we would sit and chat about baseball and life. I used to call him "Wheels" after the Phillies announcer Chris Wheeler. Wheels would know the batter's count, pitch count, score and line up. He would sit, eat his sunflower seeds, spit the shells out of his mouth and call the next pitch. He would say...."watch this...gonna be a curve ball....." The curve ball would come, the batter would swing and miss and Wheels would grin.
It was a fun time for all of us except Buddy who sat on the bench and kept the bats in an upright position making sure that they were clustered in colors and height. They looked like a gray and black package of crayons. He definitely had a style about the way he kept the bats in alignment. Actually, the bats have a life of their own. With any artist or athlete, there is a favorite tool of the trade. For accountants, there are favorite calculators whereas a photographer has a preferred lens. Believe it or not, it is the same with a ball player. The baseball bat is something more than a tool...it can be a perceived weapon. Once the kids could figure it out, the bats became a status symbol. Like a Mercedes, Lexus or BMW, a bat can indicate power.
I know what you are thinking.....are you kidding me? The answer is...no....I am not kidding. The baseball bat in Little League is the precursor to owning a Maserati. Buddy once called me at work. He and his dad (naturally) went bat shopping. He bought something called a DeMarini. His excitement over the phone was palpable. "Mom....I got it...it is amazing...Mom...a DeMarini....it's so sweet...smooth..super sweet spot....I am going to hit home runs with this...it's beautiful...no kidding....." The first DeMarini call came in around 2 pm....there were 6 more after that one describing the bat and its power. My colleague who was sitting with me laughed each time the phone rang....That night and many others, Buddy slept with his bat at his side. I would tell people that it was because we did not have a burglar alarm and he wanted to be prepared to protect the family.
Back to 7th grade...the team was very good. This can be a mixed blessing for the younger kid. Unless the game is a blow out, the younger kids did not make it into the game. Buddy once made it in to pinch-bunt....which he did....In my mind, it was a perfect bunt....that's it....he did not get in for the rest of the season except for a cameo appearance once or twice. The kids won the districts and lost in the play offs. Buddy made me proud as he continued to keep the bats in order with only a few angry..."why didn't I get in again?...." rides home. He knew that 8th grade would be his year too....
More later.....
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