You'd been caught in a pickle?

I've started multiple blog entries but I've failed to finish any of them. It's not that I'm lazy, or don't have anything to talk about - I've just been scatter brained. If I'm not @ work, I'm @ home, and if I'm at neither of those spots, I must be at the baseball game. The baseball game isn't a job, just the reality. It's very interesting to be able to go to so many baseball games - it's a true luxury. But, at the same time, it's a dream come true.

See, I love baseball. Not in the way a fan loves their team. I love the game. I could care less who's on the field - I want to see how the stances change with the change up. I don't care about the Golden Glove statistic, I want to see the pickle (or squeeze as some are calling it now). I want to see the coach come out to stand up for their players after a botched call. I want to see the 1st base coach congratulating a runner on the success of home plate.

I used to play. I played t-ball - which is a true sport. I have pictures of me in my black and white uniform. I remember playing second base...maybe because I couldn't throw the ball from the outfield. But, I loved the rush of hitting the ball and running like the wind. I played softball, but not very well. I was a better bench warmer than I was right fielder. I did become a very consistent hitter - at the bottom of the order. But, when you are the bottom of the order, not much is expected of you!

But, outside of playing the game, I remember tossing the ball with Tyler, Trudi, and against this piece of plywood I'd prop against a tree in the back yard. I remember being out there night after night, counting to 100, taking a 10-minute break, then starting again.

I don't think I ever disliked practice. I liked running the bases, sprinting around 1st, 2nd, 3rd, with the hope of being told "SLIDE!" then sliding into the base of the coach's choosing. Who can ever forget sliding practice!

Sliding practice took place whenever it would rain through practice. And, in Washington - it rained all the time! So, on occasion, rather than doing drills in the workout area, we'd find a flooded part of the ball field and practice the feet first slide, head first slide, and the hail-mary slide - also known as plopping. Is that how you spell it?

Anyway, we'd come from sliding practice not just drenched from the rain, but stained from mud. It was everywhere - in your hair, under your nails, up your nose, in your ears. Those were long showers of scrubbing, scrubbing and scrubbing. Thank God sunny days where we obtained sunburns were rarely followed by rainy-muddy days. Could you imagine having to scrub a sunburn? Yikes!

Back to reality - I don't get to play softball or baseball anymore. The closest I get to it is going to Dodger Stadium and watching Izzy, Choi, or Milt with their hits, slides and catches. I get to watch from the sidelines.

Tonight, the Dodgers play the Marlins. We get a t-shirt for showing up. Other than that, I'm only there for the game.

1 comment:

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