Baseball

I love two seasons of the year in Alabama. I’m torn between my love for the fall, and my love for the spring. I don’t care too much for the dog days of summer, or the bitter cold of winter. Fall is wonderful because it brings an end to the pressing heat of summer. Fall is also great because I love football. I equate the first high school football game in late August as the start of Fall. I always spend the last Friday night in August at a game. It makes me happy. But Spring is even better in a lot of ways. I equate the beginning of Spring with the start of baseball season. That is what this post is really about. Spring has begun. It may stay cold for several more weeks, but to me Spring has begun because baseball has begun.

Tonight Auburn had their first baseball game of the year. I was able to go with my Dad and enjoy a good ballgame under beautiful skies. I have been going to Auburn baseball games for as long as I can remember. Some of my best memories as a child were going to see games with my Dad. I’m so grateful that we shared those times together. I distinctly remember going to Hoover each year for the annual SEC baseball tournament. Dad and I would sit there for hours, watching game after game. I loved every minute of it.

I have always loved baseball. I played it as a child, and even while in High School. My father shared with me the complexities of the game at a young age. At 12 years old, I knew more about the game than most adults. I remember coming home from school as a child, and while my friends would watch cartoons, I would watch the Cubs on WGN each afternoon. I fell in love with the Cubs: Ryan Sandburg was a hero of mine, and I loved the late great Harry Carey. I was not the biggest/strongest/most talented player at any point of my baseball playing days. However, I used my passion for the game, and my knowledge of the game to succeed. Nobody tried harder than I did, nobody cared as much as I did. I got those qualities from my Father.

Meanwhile my Mother (The Redhead), was there offering her motherly support as well. She was always at my games, keeping the official scorebook, bringing drinks for the team, supporting me all the way. When I was 12, I played on the All-Star team for Opelika. We were a good team, but we lost in the subdivision tournament to Auburn. They were the better team. Several of those kids went on to play professional baseball. We fought hard, but came up short. I remember coming home after losing the championship and just crashing on my bed. My Dad came into my room and told me he was proud of me, and my Mom came in and offered a hug and kiss. I’m thankful for my parents love and support.

I still continue to go to Auburn baseball games as much as I can. Sometimes I get a friend to go with me, sometimes Dad can go. Many times I go by myself. I find it a great way to relax and free my mind. It is a way to put everything going on in my life behind me for a few hours. Most people have their own way to “get away.” For some people it is running or exercise, for others it’s their music, and some turn to self-medications. For me, it’s baseball. I get consumed in the game. Nothing else matters during those few hours. I love the smell of the grass, the sounds of other fans, and the relaxed pace of the game. I watch intently and analyze the game. I watch the coaches give their signs to the catcher for the next pitch. Usually within a few innings I can “break the code” and tell you what pitch has been called. I watch the pitcher before the pitch. I look for a tip. Much like a poker player has a “tell,” pitchers can tip off what pitch they are about throw sometimes. It may be the way he fiddles with the ball in his glove. Maybe he lifts up his right elbow a bit while gripping the ball when he’s about to throw a curveball. Perhaps he crouches a bit more when about to throw a fastball. One time I sat right beside the Auburn dugout, and I noticed the opposing pitcher had a “tell.” While gripping the ball in this glove before the pitch, he would lift up his right elbow just a bit if he was going to throw a curve ball. I noticed it after about 2 batters. I watched one more batter just to be sure. I could barely contain my excitement. Has nobody else noticed this? The Auburn coaches that are paid to notice these things haven’t said a word?!? I couldn’t stand it. After the inning ended, the coach at the time walked back toward the dugout. I leaned over the railing and got his attention. “Coach, he’s tipping off his curveball. “When he lifts his right elbow a bit before the pitch, it’s a curveball!” He smiled at me and said, “ok, thanks.” He shook his head. Dismissing my analysis. That is until the next inning. Undoubtedly my words stuck in his mind, and he noticed it while the pitcher was warming up for the inning. I saw him race back to the dugout and inform the batters. “Right elbow up, it’s a curveball” he said. Auburn hit 3 homeruns that inning and won the game. I sat there on the front row waiting for him to come thank me. Nothing. He took credit for my find! Oh well… he ended up getting fired at the end of the year anyway.

Sometimes I make myself just relax and enjoy the game without over analyzing it. Tonight was one of those nights. I don’t watch for signs, I don’t watch the pitcher for “tells,” I just sit back and relax and watch the game like any other fan. Enjoying God’s wonderful creation. A beautiful game, under beautiful weather. Spring is here my friends. And if you are looking for me, I’ll either be at work or at Plainsman Park.