I can't imagine my life without baseball.
Watching it on TV with my Dad, listening to Met games on the radio with Mr. Hemminger, collecting baseball cards from the bubble-gum packs, playing it any chance I got.
For some reason, playing baseball came naturally to me.
An older guy from the neighborhood said that when I was 5, I could throw a ball over my house. He found that astonishing.
As far back as I can remember, my Dad and I would be playing catch in front of the house. He had a great change-up that would make me giggle every time he threw it. I could never master that pitch.
From the beginning, I was an awesome pitcher, and usually batted third, a slot reserved for the team's best hitter.
My fondest chilhood memories were of playing baseball.
Once, when I was in the "minors", my brother's team (Tom played in the "majors) needed an extra player. I was facing Greg Smith, one of the best pitchers in the league. Like it was yesterday, I remember smokin' a line-drive to right-center, skidding around first because I was wearing sneakers instead of cleats, and making it into second for a stand-up double, driving in a run. A proud moment!
My dad was always involved, be it coaching, driving, or just cheering me on.
By high-school my interest in playing baseball waned. A few years later some guys from the neighborhood got a team up, and I loved it, although I was a shell of my former self.
Then the injuries came, and I switched to hockey, which is fun to play, but can't compare to my days of playing hardball. Softball is a joke.
Watching it on TV with my Dad, listening to Met games on the radio with Mr. Hemminger, collecting baseball cards from the bubble-gum packs, playing it any chance I got.
For some reason, playing baseball came naturally to me.
An older guy from the neighborhood said that when I was 5, I could throw a ball over my house. He found that astonishing.
As far back as I can remember, my Dad and I would be playing catch in front of the house. He had a great change-up that would make me giggle every time he threw it. I could never master that pitch.
From the beginning, I was an awesome pitcher, and usually batted third, a slot reserved for the team's best hitter.
My fondest chilhood memories were of playing baseball.
Once, when I was in the "minors", my brother's team (Tom played in the "majors) needed an extra player. I was facing Greg Smith, one of the best pitchers in the league. Like it was yesterday, I remember smokin' a line-drive to right-center, skidding around first because I was wearing sneakers instead of cleats, and making it into second for a stand-up double, driving in a run. A proud moment!
My dad was always involved, be it coaching, driving, or just cheering me on.
By high-school my interest in playing baseball waned. A few years later some guys from the neighborhood got a team up, and I loved it, although I was a shell of my former self.
Then the injuries came, and I switched to hockey, which is fun to play, but can't compare to my days of playing hardball. Softball is a joke.
Baseball is a part of me. At night I still have dreams of playing. Wish I still could.
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