I don’t remember much about playing Tee Ball. I remember one time running home from third base as fast as I could when suddenly the ball hit my foot.
“He’s out,” the ump yelled.
I didn’t care much for the game, though, according to stories I’ve heard. It seems that I was more interested in playing (with my Matchbox cars) in the outfield, than actually playing the outfield. I guess I was bored out there because I didn’t see much action.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
The Phillies lose
The Phillies, my Phillies (I adopted every team from the City of Brotherly Love in 1983) had just made the final out of the World Series. As I looked down at the baseball cards from both the Phillies and those bastards, the Baltimore Orioles, they were arranged from top to bottom by batting order. I reached down for the card of Rick Dempsey, the Philly killer himself, and I ripped up his baseball card into tiny pieces. It didn’t matter that I had almost a complete set of 1983 Topps cards – my devotion to my favorite team outweighed the possible collective value. There are some things you just can’t put a price on.
N.C. State wins!
“Whittenburg, oh it’s a long way…”
“They won it! On the dunk!”
I run through our house off Bardstown Road yelling and screaming, celebrating NC State’s shocker over heavily-favored Houston in the NCAA championship game. My love of underdogs has begun! It’s one I’ll both enjoy as a fan and embody myself for the rest of my life. I don’t care what it does to my NCAA bracket – give me an upset any day of the tourney, especially in the final.
“They won it! On the dunk!”
I run through our house off Bardstown Road yelling and screaming, celebrating NC State’s shocker over heavily-favored Houston in the NCAA championship game. My love of underdogs has begun! It’s one I’ll both enjoy as a fan and embody myself for the rest of my life. I don’t care what it does to my NCAA bracket – give me an upset any day of the tourney, especially in the final.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
I hit a home run...and had an error
I pretend that the pitcher calls the girl who I have loved since the first grade (Sherry) a bad name. As his offering comes I bring my bat forward as hard as I can and close my eyes just as the ball arrives. Ping! I feel the force of my bat against the ball and hear the sharp sound of the aluminum. Frozen for a split-second I open my eyes and see the ball heading deep into the outfield.
“Two! Two!” the first-base coach shouts at me as I round the base, but I’ve got other ideas on my mind – a home run!
I round first, then second, with no intention of stopping. I look ahead to third and see the third baseman jump as the ball sails over his head. I round third and head home. As my foot touches the plate the ball rolls past the catcher.
“I hit a home run! I hit a home run!” I squeal, even though it probably was a double with two throwing errors in the official rulebook. I slap my teammates hi-fives as I run into the dugout. When mom and I get home I race in to tell my dad, who I guess had to work that Saturday afternoon, that I had hit a home run. I tell him, excitedly, and wait for his response.
“But did you make any errors?” he asks.
Of course I had. Suddenly, my home run didn’t feel so great.
“Two! Two!” the first-base coach shouts at me as I round the base, but I’ve got other ideas on my mind – a home run!
I round first, then second, with no intention of stopping. I look ahead to third and see the third baseman jump as the ball sails over his head. I round third and head home. As my foot touches the plate the ball rolls past the catcher.
“I hit a home run! I hit a home run!” I squeal, even though it probably was a double with two throwing errors in the official rulebook. I slap my teammates hi-fives as I run into the dugout. When mom and I get home I race in to tell my dad, who I guess had to work that Saturday afternoon, that I had hit a home run. I tell him, excitedly, and wait for his response.
“But did you make any errors?” he asks.
Of course I had. Suddenly, my home run didn’t feel so great.
I'm good...at NERF basketball!
I’m down big in a game of NERF basketball to my best friend, Adam, so I decide to do what I saw Jim Valvano’s NC State Wolfpack do that spring on its way to the national title, I foul him and send him to the free throw line. Just like it did for Derek Whittenburg, Lorenzo Charles & Co., it works for me too. Adam missed a lot of front-end chances and I make him pay and I make shots. I take the lead and when he tries the same tactic it backfires. I make my free throws and win the game. It’s great validation for me – I recount the game for our friends at the lunch table the following week – because Adam is one of the team’s best players while I am a little-used reserve.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Those who can't play write
It’s often said that “Those who can’t do, teach.”
Well in sports, it’s: “Those who can’t play, write.”
Growing up I was never much of an athlete, my athletic ability really didn’t start to catch up to me until the summer after I graduated high school, but that couldn’t diminish my love of sports. I tried to play most of them, but I was never very good at any of them, but by early in college I realized that I was good at writing, so I decided to pursue a major in Journalism at Indiana University, one of the best J-school’s in the country. Sports writing eventually became my full-time job. And while I got out of full-time journalism after seven years I realized that I wanted to try something new. However, today I still work as a freelance writer. The following is my story, from my attempts to play sports as a child to my rubbing shoulders with some of the world’s best athletes and attending some of the biggest sporting events.
Well in sports, it’s: “Those who can’t play, write.”
Growing up I was never much of an athlete, my athletic ability really didn’t start to catch up to me until the summer after I graduated high school, but that couldn’t diminish my love of sports. I tried to play most of them, but I was never very good at any of them, but by early in college I realized that I was good at writing, so I decided to pursue a major in Journalism at Indiana University, one of the best J-school’s in the country. Sports writing eventually became my full-time job. And while I got out of full-time journalism after seven years I realized that I wanted to try something new. However, today I still work as a freelance writer. The following is my story, from my attempts to play sports as a child to my rubbing shoulders with some of the world’s best athletes and attending some of the biggest sporting events.
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