The Call of Spring
The sun made an appearance this morning, full of a promise to bump the mercury all the way to 70 degrees. The excitement of spring reminded me of our national pastime and the anticipation kids who play little league must be feeling to get out of the gym and onto the field. It’s like a rite of passage, going from winter to spring, from indoor sports to the great outdoors and the cathedral of a grass and dirt diamond.
Get out your glove. Pull off the rubber band securing the mitt’s folds and receptive shape about the stitched seed it holds. Slip your off-hand into it, feel the textured, tanned leather worn a bit smooth from last year’s skin oils and perspiration. Raise your throwing hand, clench it into a fist, and pound it a few times into the pocket, getting the scent of oil and leather on your knuckles. Slide your hand back out, grab the glove oil and begin conditioning your glove again, cleaning and rubbing that wonderous liquid into all the spots that will have to be flexible and moldable to your hand and the ball.
Then, of course, there’s a new bat to be found. One that has just the right handle thickness and balance – oh, and cool graphics would help! Head outside with your dad or your bothers and toss the ball around.
In Seattle, the beginning of baseball season is usually met with uncooperative weather. Cold, wind, rain – all the enemies of baseball and in April when baseball starts we still have all of those in spades. The Little League fields in our native West Seattle are on the back side of a hill fronting Alki Point on Puget Sound, but that doesn’t stop the southerly winds from scouring the area. On any given day, those fields feel at least ten degrees colder than any other part of town. If you’re a parent or a spectator, there are some days where no amount of bundling up will keep you warm. So, everybody watches the weather. Maybe we can get our game in if it stops raining by noon. If it does, the coaches and volunteers will throw a bunch of quick-dry on those wet infields so we can play. Thank goodness for that stuff; I wonder how many 50 pound bags they go through every season.
Our family played little league from the age of 4 all the way up to high school, when the school and select teams took over. I’ve frozen my butt off, sweat through 100+ degree weather, and traveled more miles than I can count. And I loved every minute of watching my boys play. From April ’til the end of July, it was baseball. Family vacations were relegated to two weeks in August, squeezed in after baseball ended and before football started.
My boys were much better players than I was. My big little league memory was hitting two grand slams in one game. My boys were all on multiple all-star teams winning district championships and even coming in 3rd in the Little League State Tournament. They played on select teams, were high school league champions and all-stars, and perennial high school state playoff contenders, including two state championships. There was a lot of baseball in our family.
The best part of baseball, though, has always been being able to play it and share it with your friends. This game is often life in slow motion; recognition of the inevitable, both good and bad, sometimes looms large. But it’s a shared recognition, one of being in the moment and watching everyone else being in theirs. That sharing is special. I’m not sure there’s another sport that allows just enough of a pause between plays to provide that introspection, that recognition to take hold, to be embraced and enjoyed.
Baseball is special not just for the game that it is, but for the time of year it is played. It emerges in spring, just as all living things do from winter, from our hibernation, from our survival. There’s a fresh excitement that blooms along with the trees, the rhodys, the tulips and the colors. Baseball blends in with all that growth. It’s part of the promise. It runs through the lazy warmth of summer, where everything good and fun is outside on the grass, in the dirt. So, get out your glove, pick up your bat, grab some buddies and head for the diamond. You’ll have a good time. Oh, and don’t forget a ball.
