Baseball is always best when it's kept simple
By Mychal Wilmes
wilmes@agrinews.com
Date Modified: 05/27/2010 9:46 AM
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A half-dozen high school graduation pictures remain in the case kept in Mother's oak desk. The package had cost 25 hard-earned George Washington's, which is why I insisted that the pictures be snapped without the heavy back-rimmed glasses. I have never been comfortable having my picture taken. The photo-phobia has only worsened as years past.
Some people are like that. Some don't allow photos for religious reasons while others simply don't like the way they look. It would have been nice to take more photographs of my dad in his bib overalls and mother wearing her apron while making bread or chocolate chip cookies.
Dad didn't like to have his picture taken, which is too bad because I'd like to see a picture of him in his baseball uniform. Before television, baseball games drew huge crowds on Sunday afternoons in rural communities across the state. Some teams paid a little money to a star pitcher or batter that might help the team defeat a bitter rival. Women and children would spend the day watching and picnicing, which was perfect pasttime on sunny Sunday afternoons.
Dad had a mean fork ball, which made the ball appear to drop off a table just before the batter swung. I know that because he threw it to me when he was in his late 50s. He laughed when I swung and missed and promised to throw an even harder-to-hit curve ball next time.
Dad's baseball career ended when his brothers-in-law, who owned the farm he rented, insisted that a father with so many children shouldn't waste his time playing when work needed to be done. Although often asked to pitch again, he always declined. That was sad, because youthful pursuits should be enjoyed before aches and pains force them to end. He was a much better player than me, which is one reason he never came to watch.
We played pasture ball for years, with feed sacks for bags and cowpies considered natural field hazards. Sunday games in his retirement drew 20 or more players with wives and girlfriends in attendance. The children took inner tubes to the nearby creek, where crayfish, chubs and bullheads were eager to bite on crude fishing poles made from corn crib lathes.
Pasture ball caused some injuries, the worst of which was a sister's broken arm after she slipped on a base. There was a small scandal, when Mother was shocked that a boy cousin dared kiss his girlfriend in everyone's full view. Lemonade and Kool-Aide soothed hurt feelings and food prepared in mother's kitchen filled empty bellies.
Although Dad watched every Twins game broadcast and listened to many more on the radio, his favorite team was the Yankees. His loyalty came about because their games were broadcast on the radio in the living room. Their games started early on the East Coast, so he could listen when he came inside for dinner and lingered long afterward so as not to miss too much excitement.
Baseball, he thought, was always best listened to. That way, the mind's eye could imagine a diving catch or long home run and hear the crowd roar.
I agree with him about the radio.
In the past few years, Kathy has collected classic radio shows that featured stars like Bob Hope, Jack Benny, George Burns and characters named Johnny Dollar, The Shadow and Joe Friday. The only problem with them is I listen to them in bed, and invariably fall asleep too soon to hear the endings.
I tell myself that I must be getting old.
While watching Sam play high school ball, I smell the grass and feel the wind against my face. It would be great to track down a long fly ball and even better if Dad was watching from the stands.Baseball is always best when it is kept simple — no million-dollar contracts and pampered players who don't always appreciate what their God-given talents have provided.
We were fortunate to play pasture ball and can only wish we had more sunny Sundays to spend playing a kids game.
Mychal Wilmes is managing editor of Agri News.