Baseball, Part 4

After my final failure in American Legion ball in the early 1960s, I knew my dreams were dead—the dreams of playing at any higher level.

But playing the game had not totally left my life. For example, at the end of my first year of teaching (1967), the final day, there was a game between the faculty of the Aurora (Ohio) Middle School and the 8th graders, who would be moving along to the high school in the fall.

I played third base, got a couple of hits, but the play that brought the biggest reaction from the students was when I grabbed a hot grounder, paused to examine the ball, then fired it to first. Out!

The kids couldn’t believe that (1) I could grab a hot grounder, (2) I could throw that hard and well. (Actually, I couldn't believe it, either: I hadn't played ball at all for a few years.)

My status rose.

And I learned a lesson: In later years—the years when I had lunch duty—I would play ball in nice weather with the kids. And thereby nudge my status upwards a bit. (Did the same with basketball—but that's for later posts.)

Later, at the request of colleague and friend Jerry Brodsky, I joined him in a softball league over in Tallmadge. A team of teachers.

And that was a lot of fun. For some unfathomable reason they put me at short (I could tell one of my teammates was annoyed by this—as well he should have been). I hit pretty well, made most of the plays, and impressed Joyce, who came to the games with our infant son, Steve. He caught no foul balls there, but Steve did catch the mumps, courtesy of a careless mother who brought her infected child to a game.

Some years later when I was teaching at Western Reserve Academy, I played some more teacher-league softball games with some colleagues. I played first. Don't know why. I hadn't ever played the position very much; I am neither tall nor lefthanded. My only virtue was that I had no trouble catching throws—accurate and errant (all those years behind the plate).

But I didn't know how to be careful.

A baserunner once ran me down, and I was woozy the rest of the game.

But that was about the extent of my playing career ...

By then, though, our son had already begun his career ...

TO BE CONTINUED ...