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Picture of the day -
April 4, 2006
An Old, Worn-Out Catcher's Mitt
Over the weekend, Cheria and I were browsing an
Abingdon, Virginia flea market
when I saw this old catcher's mitt gathering dust in one of the booths. I had
been looking for one to hang on my office wall for quite some time, so I picked
it up and asked the vendor how much he wanted for it. He quoted a price of $6,
so I paid him and we went about our way peeking into the other booths and
checking out all the fine "junk" that was for sale that day.
Later in the day I heard a news story on the radio about the impending start of this
year's Major League Baseball season. But instead of the usual speculation about
which teams had the best chances for having a good year, they were talking about
the growing steroid scandal surrounding some of the game's biggest stars. What
had been a beautiful spring afternoon sort of turned sour for me after that.
You see, when it comes to baseball, I guess I'm just a big ole kid at heart. I
remember how as a young boy I used to wait with eager anticipation for the day
and time of our next
Little League game to arrive. The excitement would build and build, and by the time game
day arrived I was on a natural high that surely no illicit drug could match. I
was in love with baseball and I simply loved playing the game.
Looking through the lens of my childhood, the view of the green grass and red
dirt of the Damascus, VA Little League Field gleaming in the late afternoon sun
was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. As each game was set to begin, I
would sit in the dugout or stand in my catcher's position behind home plate
(depending on whether we were the home team or the visitors) just waiting for
Earl Bebber or whoever happened to be umpiring that day to yell out the
sweetest two words in the English language: "PLAY BALL!".
It didn't really matter to us kids whether we won or lost. We were simply having
fun playing the national pastime - hitting a blazing fastball - or not, catching an
outfield fly - or not...and occasionally becoming embarrassed when a slow grounder went
right between our legs. We were kids playing a kids game, and few experiences in
my life have provided as much pure enjoyment as playing Little League Baseball
in Damascus, Virginia.
Today, I still love the game of baseball, but I despise the business of
baseball. I used to watch every televised Major League game that I could, but
that all began to change when the players started going on strike. Suddenly we
had millionaire players striking against billionaire owners over an extra
million dollars or two of salary. Baseball was no longer about playing the game.
It was about being able to brag about who had the biggest contract. This made no
sense at all to this baseball nut who would have gladly played for free if one
of the Major League teams would have had me.
But what really breaks my heart is the way performance enhancing drugs are being
used to break some of the game's most hallowed records. It should have raised
plenty of eyebrows when Roger Maris' amazing record of 61 home runs in a single
season - a record that stood unchallenged for decades - was suddenly being
challenged by no less than three players at the same time. It should have been
quite clear to any baseball fan that something was amiss.
And now we have one of those same players on the verge of breaking the most
sacred record of all: Hammerin' Hank Aaron's 755 career home runs. Hank took
that record from the mighty Babe Ruth fair and square by hitting at least 20
home runs in 20 consecutive seasons, during some of which he had to play under
the dark shadow of racism.
While I have lost my respect for the business of baseball, I'll carry
my love for the game of baseball with me to the grave. I still enjoy
stopping by the Damascus Little League and taking in a game every now and then.
It's easy to see that today's youngsters have just as much fun out on the field
as I did way back then. To borrow a phrase from the world of NASCAR, this is
baseball the way it oughta' be.
"When I was in a ballpark, I felt . . . like I was surrounded by angels
and I
had God's hand on my shoulder." - Hammerin' Hank Aaron
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