Baseball Days

It's baseball season, spring soon to roll into summer, and I couldn't be happier.  There is no place I'd rather be that on a baseball field, coaching.  It doesn't matter if it's a practice or a game.  Along with running, it's the activity in my life that brings me the most joy.  

I've had to adapt this spring to watching JP and his middle school team play baseball, as opposed to coaching him, and them.  It's been an adjustment, for sure, but one I've enjoyed, as well.  Although work has made it difficult to get to some of the games, given the 4:15/4:30 pm start times, I've made it to most of them.

For the most part, JP has played on the A team for MBA, as the only 7th grader on the 8th grade team.  Although he hasn't seen a lot of playing time, it's been good for him to play with the 8th graders.  The A team gets priority on practice time and scheduled games and I'm glad he's gotten the work in with better players.  JP's a team player and he's done everything asked of him, playing backup catcher, right and left field, and second base.  For right now, anyway, he's the ultimate utility player.

Friday, his team played it's last game of the regular season against Catholic (a parochial school all-star team).  MBA got up big, early, and was leading 10-2 by the end of the third inning, when Coach Martin began substituting freely.  Ethan (one of my Dodgers) batted and struck out.  J.D. (also an occasional Dodger and a longtime member of the Dirtbags) came in to play third base and JP came in to play right field.  

Unfortunately, a melange (I love that word) of walks and errors allowed Catholic to score six runs in the top of the 4th inning.  In the bottom of the 4th inning, with JP on deck, J.D. had a tremendous at bat, 13 or 14 pitches.  He fouled off 7 or 8 balls, then worked the pitcher for a walk, which left runners on first and third, with two outs, and JP at bat.  MBA needed an insurance run and JP needed a hit, to continue to build his confidence if nothing else.

This is where the watching gets tough for me.  I always sit to the left, behind the backstop, in a camping chair, usually still wearing my coat and tie from work.  I was nervous, not for me but for JP, because I wanted him to taste a little success.  I wanted to see him deliver in a clutch situation.  I knew that would be big for him.

JP watched a first pitch strike, as he usually does.  I like the fact that JP is not afraid to go deep in the count against any pitcher.  I think he likes to see a pitch or two and because he is a very good curve ball hitter, he's not afraid to get behind when he's batting.  I do wish he'd be a little more aggressive at the plate sometimes but his approach is his approach, and it's been successful by and large.  

The second pitch was down the middle but a little high, a border line strike.  JP fouled is straight back, which meant he had timed the pitcher up.  That's assuming, of course, the pitcher didn't throw him a curve ball or changeup next, always a possibility at this age.  My heart began to beat a little harder in my chest, as I watched JP in what I like to call a high leverage baseball situation.  Runners on first and third, two outs, two strikes.  

The third pitch was a fastball, again down the middle and a little high.  Too close to take.  Hands back.  Left foot stepping forward as the pitch approached.  Hips rotating.  JP swung and the first thing I noticed was the sound - indescribable, really - of a composite bat barreling up a baseball.  Almost startling in its volume.  I watched as ball flew straight and hard into left field, through the gap between third base and shortstop.  A clean, well struck line drive into left field.  An RBI single.

Instinctively and spontaneously, I jumped up from my seat, clapped my hands together and yelled, "JP!  Way to go, JP!"  Sheepishly, I sat down rather quickly, surprised by the intensity of the moment.  In that instant, though, I felt such pride.  I also felt a sense of relief, too.  Mostly, I was happy for JP.  

As he ran to first and rounded the base, JP's teammates in the dugout - to my immediate left - erupted in cheers for him.  A clutch hit that stretched the lead to 11-8.  The next batter made an out, the Drake closed out of the win with a 1-2-3 bottom of the 5th inning.  Another win for the Big Red and a clutch hit for JP. 

It was a good ride home.

Yesterday, Joe's Diamondback had a doubleheader.  Joe was playing both ends following a morning soccer game.  I was little concerned that Joe was starting at pitcher in the first game, then catching the second game, given it would be our first warm afternoon of the spring - 85 degrees - on the heels of non-stop running for his soccer game.  As always, though, Joe is a gamer and my concern was misplaced. 

He pitched well for three innings, throwing slightly more than 50 pitches.  When I asked him how he felt after the first two innings, he looked at me incredulously and said, "I'm good, Dad.  I want to keep pitching."  Joe.

He doesn't throw hard - certainly not as hard as Oliver's son, Preston - but he's accurate, just like JP at that age.  The similarities are uncanny, really, in how they pitch and in their approach.  JP and Joe both have grit and never are afraid of the moment.  I love that about both of them.  Joe can heat it up on occasion but he doesn't constantly throw hard.  That will come in time, I think.

After an easy win in the first game, Joe caught Preston in the second game.  Although he's not caught all season, he did well.  Preston was dialed in on the mound, more so than he has been all season.  Through three innings, he was pitching a perfect game, something I've never seen in youth baseball.  Economical with his pitches and throwing gas, the other team didn't have much of a chance.  Rex, in centerfield, caught a fly ball in the second or third inning to preserve the perfecto.

Finally, in the top of the 4th inning, the leadoff hitter drilled a ground ball right back at Preston, who got his glove on it.  Ram, at shortstop fielded the deflected ball cleanly and threw it to Nico at first base but the runner beat the throw.  Clear base hit, although Preston wanted it to be an error, which would at least preserve the no hitter.  Afterwards, he was disappointed, at least initially, to lose the perfect game and the no hitter on the same play.  

Final score, 20-0.  

I was proud of Joe, who hit well, particularly in the second game.  Several boys had big hits.  Ram hit a line drive up the middle, something he has been looking to do for a while.  George followed up a strikeout, looking, with a triple, which was big for him.  Nash absolutely smoked two ground balls, one of which rolled almost to the fence, as he ended up with a triple, as well.

I coached first base int he sedan game, which I love because it gives me a chance to interact with the boys, individually, and coach them up during the game.  Leadoffs after the pitch crossed home plate, stealing second base, not running into a tag when there is not a force play at third base, etc.  Baseball stuff.  

As I sat on our back deck late yesterday afternoon and had a Bearded Iris "Tunnel Vision" IPA, unwinding, I smiled to myself and savored the moment.  A great game for JP on Friday afternoon and two great games for Joe on Saturday.  

Oliver, taking with the boys after their 20-0 game two victory.  The lesson?  Sportsmanship, especially when you're winning big, because it's not fun being on the other side of a score like that, and our boys have been there.  

JP and Joe, after MBA's A team victory, 11-8, over Catholic.  

A Sense of Normalcy

A couple of nights ago, I went to Amerigo's on West End Avenue to pick up takeout for the family.  Dating back to before Jude and I had the boys, Amerigo has long been one of our go to takeout spots, particularly when we want a nicer meal but don't have time for a night out.

When I arrived, I was struck by the fact that Amerigo's was crowded.  The bar was filled with patrons, some eating and some having a drink after work or as visiting tourists.  All of the tables in the restaurant were filled, as well, and servers were bustling around the restaurant.  There was even a wait to be seated, which I haven't seen there in, what, two years.  

For just a moment, I stopped and watched the hum of activity, smiling to myself.  I want - we all want - to get through the pandemic and have things return to normal, whatever that means.  Wednesday night, to me, anyway, it felt like it did to me - at Amerigo's - before the pandemic.  Before I had ever heard of Covid-19.

Normal, of course, is a subjective term.  It's personal.  It means something different to me than it does to you.  

When Jude and I went to the Predators' game on Tuesday night with our friends, Rob and Roseann, Bridgestone Arena was packed for the game against a rival, the Minnesota Wild.  Great game, by the way.  Four fights, two in the first minute of play.  Lots of scoring.  A hat trick by Ryan Johansen, completed in the final seconds of play when he scored an empty net goal.  The fans responded by tossing hundreds of hats onto the ice.  Best of all, the Predators' won, 5-2. 

But, I digress.  Jude wore a mask throughout the game.  Why?  Because she's more comfortable wearing a mask in large group settings even though she's vaccinated and has had a booster shot.  That's he normal, for now, anyway.  Forever?  I don't know.  I didn't ask her.  

The point, of course, is that she wanted to wear a mask at the game and she did so.  It wasn't weird or strange.  No one said anything to her.  A few other people wore masks, too, but not many.  And that was fine, as well.  Normal or, maybe, the new normal.

Is the pandemic over?  It's hard for me to say that it is, personally, given that Joe's 3rd grade teach tested positive for Covid-19 this week.  Jude's sister-in-law tested positive, also, upon returning from a trip to Disney.  So, no, I don't think the pandemic is over.

What I do think is over, though, for better or worse - and I'm not sure which - is the general public's overly cautious, careful approach to the pandemic.  It seems as if people are at a point where they have accepted that Covid-19 is going to be with us for a while - maybe forever - people are going to get it and get sick, or even die.  But life must go on and it will go on, Covid-19 be damned.

Personally, my sense of worry, even dread, about Covid-19 has dropped from an 8 or 9 to a 2 or 3, probably because I had it in January and survived it.  I was pretty sick but my I never felt like my life was in danger.  Would I want to go through it again?  No.  Am I willing to avoid crowds, isolate, and wear a mask in public to lessen my chances of getting Covid-19 again?  No.

What does all of this mean?  I have no idea, really.

I do know, however, that things seem to returning to normal again.  And that's nice.  

Joey Strike Zone

Sunday afternoon, in their second game of the spring baseball season, Joe's Diamondbacks played a team of fourth graders from Brentwood.  We knew they would be good - probably the best team the boys play all season - and they were.

The plan was to start Oliver's son, Preston, who is our best pitcher.  Oliver and I were hoping to get three innings out of Preston, then close the game with Joe, probably our second best pitcher.  As is so often the case with youth sports, however, the plan quickly went awry. 

Preston was hit hard in the top of the first inning and, as Oliver and I watched from the third base dugout, it looked like he was having some discomfort in his right arm.  Oliver, our head coach, went to the mound to talk to him, and left him in to see if he could work through it.  Really, it was impossible to tell if the issue with Preston was mental or physical but when he started lobbing balls over the plate - normally, he is our hardest thrower - Oliver visited the mount again and took him out of the game.  

Joe left shortstop and came on to pitch in relief of Preston.  One pitch.  Popup.  The Diamondbacks were out of the inning.

It's interesting and probably not altogether surprising but from what I recall of JP's pitching at age 10, Joe has a very similar style and approach.  Joe throws hard but not too hard.  He has good control.  He never gets rattled.  No moment is too big for him.  JP was precisely the same way, as a pitcher, at the same age.  In fact, I treated JP like our closer, often bringing him in to pitch in relief in high leverage situations.  I knew his emotions wouldn't get the better of him and, more importantly, I knew if he failed, it wouldn't crush him.  Joe is exactly the same way.  

In the end, Joe got hit, hard at times.  The boys lost 15 - 5 against an older, more experienced, better baseball team.  But Joe pitched his ass off.  He three 71 pitches, considerably more than I had planned or would have preferred.  He pitched strongly the whole time, though, and at one point, after he struck out the last batter to end the inning, the Padres' third base coach patted him on the back as he walked across the infield to get his players ready to take the field. 

What I really loved - and, again, Joe was channeling JP - was that before the last inning he pitched, I stepped into the dugout, found Joe, and asked him how he felt.  

"I'm good, Dad."  Joe said.  

"Do you want another inning?" I asked.  

With genuine emotion in his voice, he looked up at me and said, "YES, of course!"  

After our boys finished batting, Joe walked out to the mound and pitched another inning.  He battled.  And I was damn proud of him.

Can he learn to throw harder?  Yes, in time.  Can his control improve?  Yes.  That, too, will come in time.  Will he put the work in, like JP has?  That remains to be seen but I think he will.

What is awesome to see, though, at age 10, is his confidence and his mental and emotional makeup.  Joe is never afraid of the moment.  He's never afraid of failing.  He wants the ball in his hands - baseball or basketball - in key moments.  Does he always succeed?  Of course not, but he always competes.  And he leads, verbally and by example.  

I'm blessed, I know, to have two boys that love to compete - in sports for now but, later, in life.  I'm especially blessed to have a front row seat to it all.