Road Entry #1: Early Baseball Memories

It may not be that big of a deal to others, but the earliest and most prominent baseball memory from my youth happened when I played in little league in Freeport.

It was an inter-town league, playing with and against friends from school, and the league’s community reached to our parents, siblings, and family friends. Often, one of our parents would either coach or umpire games. One day, the ump didn’t show up for the game, so my dad volunteered.

Now, naturally I thought I would get a break at the plate because of this. So I decided I would not swing at anything unless it was right down the middle of the plate, an obvious strike, and I could just get on base the easy way. But my dad, who has always been a professional at anything he does (even when it came to my baseball games), was not fooling around.

In my first at bat, I followed my game plan. No swings.

Bad idea.

Three straight strikes later, I was back on the bench and feeling like an idiot because my dad just wrung me up looking

In my second at bat, I was so pissed off about what happened earlier that I decided I would swing at anything. I was never a good hitter and, 3 straight swinging strikes later, I was back on the bench again. This was getting a little ridiculous.

By that point, I was so discouraged that I was completely out of the game mentally. But my coach gave me one last at bat—against my will—and reluctantly walked back to the plate for my 3rd at bat.

This time, I just looked for a pitch, and swung at it. I made good contact, but it was a pop fly to right field. So my dad gave me no breaks, I was 0-3 with 2 strikeouts and a fly out. That’s my earliest baseball memory.