Spring Training

 

During the dark, frozen New England winter months my feet are cold, finger tips perpetually chapped, and as the sun sets days seem to draw to a close at 4 PM. As a counterpoint, I regularly have a conversation with myself in which I repeat this mantra, “but I enjoy the change of seasons, but I enjoy the change of seasons”. 

It’s true, I do enjoy the change. But as the first snowflake of the season flutters down to terra firma, my winter mantra switches to, “OK, been there, done that, on to spring!” Mother Nature of course pays no heed. So I trudge along for the next frosty months through whatever wintry mix she has on tap. By mid-February however, a month still famous for unleashing more than enough winter ‘events’ before and after crocuses pop up, it’s heart-warming news when Red Sox pitchers and catchers report to Fort Myers, FL for the start of spring training. Where I live, spring baseball is the light at the end of winter’s long, dark, frigid tunnel and a harbinger of sunnier, warmer ensuing months. It’s also another reason why baseball is The National Pastime.

It should then come as no surprise that the thought of baseball triggers all sorts of fond memories: going to the stadium as a kid with dad or mom, playing sandlot ball, seeing your team’s slugger hit one out of the park, even munching on Cracker Jack’s sticky mix, etc., etc. To drive this point home, my last Photo-blog post (A Thanksgiving Baseball Story) elicited a slew of comments many of which included writers’ baseball reminisces. I’ll share a few edited snippets from these feel-good stories. Enjoy.

From Marc, my best high school friend - 

What a beautiful Thanksgiving story.  It inspired me to look for my old mitt signed by Wally Moon of the St. Louis Cardinals.  It was the only lefty glove my Uncle Al from Brooklyn could find. I treasured it throughout my Little League days playing for Murray’s Stationary in Oceanside. I might have given it to one of my kids even though they are all right handed. While unpacking in my new residence I found a near brand new Mazuno glove (that's right, Korean made on the label).  I must have bought it years later to play catch with my son Dave. Now Dave's 7 yr old boy Walter enjoys the game. Last summer I played outfield to field balls hit by Walter with Dave pitching from the mound.  It gave me an immense sense of warmth as I could recall my father pitching to me as a kid.

I can't remember the last time I went to a game.  My girls came to enjoy baseball as a result of my stories following the Dodgers as a kid. Lisa went to see the Cards a few times when attending Wash U. Lindsey has seen the Giants at their new stadium in San Fran. 

Thank you Dave for taking me down memory lane. I have a fantasy some of us could gather for a spring training game watching the Dodgers play the Giants in Scottsdale/Phoenix

My very best

Marc

From my West Coast cousin Anne -

I went to all my brother Alan’s Little League games and probably most practices too. I loved baseball right from the start. But sadly it never occurred to my dad, or even to me, to learn how to throw or hit a ball. Such a shame. But this was way before Title IX and enlightenment.

Baseball has always been special to me because of the connection with my dad and Alan. When I was in those horrible teenage years, baseball was the “safe” place where we could always connect and talk. And that happened with both my kids too. Baseball has always been that place of connection for my family. Aren’t sports great! Thanks for sparking the memories!

Best,

Anne

From my friend Nolan - 

As a lifelong Brooklyn Dodger fan I cannot understand how you could even put on a hated NY Yankee (Phil Rizzuto) glove. Mine was a Duke Snider autographed glove and I cleaned and oiled it several times a year for many years. My uncle had a catch with me one year and he was showing off about how fast he could throw and the webbing broke. I hated him after that day. I repaired it and used it for many years after that (Little League, Pony League and my try out for the Martin Van Buren High School team). It survived in our garage until Hynda and I moved to our condo in DC ten years ago. There were certain things I was not allowed to take - the smelly old glove being one.

BTW, my father was an usher at the Polo Grounds and Yankee Stadium. He used to take me to the games when the Giants played the Dodgers. 

Nolan

Lastly, from my friend Steve - 

Loved the blog! I guess I've lost my old baseball glove but certainly appreciate how great you felt when you got yours back. BTW, growing up in Waterbury CT (the dividing line geographically between the Red Sox and the Yankees) and having lots of NY family, I was a big Yankees fan in the 50s and 60s. In fact the only Major League game I attended as a kid was at Yankee Stadium in 1961. Yes, I got to see one of my idols, Roger Maris, hit TWO home-runs that day in his quest for the all time record.

Warmly,

Steve   

Circling back to the present, on the calendar winter has officially only just begun. That means spring training is only ~60 days away. I can’t wait. 

Play ball!

                   

images - David Greenfield

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