One of the Mysteries of Life
The things I remember most about the game are the smell of leather, infield chatter, and the sweet taste of Red Man chewing tobacco. What I’ve never recollected even once is what happened between the times the pitcher released the ball and the sound of it bouncing on the asphalt beyond the homerun fence. To this day, those moments are complete blanks. For some mysterious reason, when everything clicks, God denies you the pleasure of remembering it.
The True Art of Hitting the Ball
Years later after taking up golf, I came upon a quote from Ben Hogan explaining “the secret” to hitting a golf ball really far: “Well, at some point near the top of my backswing the ball just completely disappears.” Hogan was an utterly humorless man, so everyone assumed he was simply telling it like it was. As soon as I read it, I knew for certain he was.
The Most Beautiful Thing
I still love baseball. I love having it on the radio in the house. I love going to games, though I hardly pay attention…I just bask in the glorious sounds. The most beautiful thing about baseball is – anybody can play. You don’t have to be six foot ten, run the 40 in 4.2, or be thin, or great, or young, or old – none of that stuff is required in baseball. You don’t have to be a boy and you don’t have to be a girl. Even a blackbird with a broken wing can take the field and catch a fly. It’s America’s finest game by far. But the next time someone tells you to keep your eye on the ball, don’t listen to ’em. And when you see Cindi Ortiz, let her know her “holdster” is between pitchers mound and home plate at Stude Park – I’m quite sure she’s missing it. Like me, she’s a lefty, and in baseball that makes you special all by itself.
April 19th 2017