Springtime again and the thoughts of young boy's thoughts run to fly balls, sacrifice flies, and the ballpark. Baseball which has lost it's title of the "national pastime" in recent years and covered in scandals including steroids and small-market team collapse may have found a way to sucker us in again. I have found something that has brought hope to even my dark and cynical heart, I have found minor league baseball.
Last year as the snow was melting away much less slowly then my paychecks and the days started to get longer and warmer I need to get out of my apartment. I was going stir crazy and the walls were closing in on me I needed to get out. I wanted to enjoy the warm weather. Sure, thoughts of going for a run or perhaps reading the park jumped to mind but I am much more lazy then motivated. I thought where could I go sit and relax and release no effort, yet be mildly entertained
Luckily I had stumbled across the web site of a Minor League baseball team in my area. So I got into my magical Focus and drove down to the ballpark to check it out. Signs everywhere welcomed my to Historic Holman field as I parked in a semi full parking lot. I bought my five dollar general admission ticket and walked through the gate and caught my first glimpse of an incredible sight. In the middle of April the green field jumped out at me as if it was already June and the players were getting ready for the game. The dark green seats of the 6000 seat stadium were empty for maybe the forty people spaced out in the ballpark. I bought myself a fried dough and a soda, humm how did I gain this extra weight, found a seat to the left of home plate, first row, by the visitors dugout.
Now I have been to some the most historic and famous ballparks in the Major League and marveled at aura and smell of rotten beer but none of them to could hold a candle to Holman that night. The lights illuminated the field, the players, and the advertised clad outfield wall as the game began. I could hear children’s laughter in the distance from the two little league parks nearby. The chill of winter settled in on the crowd as the night fell and for the next two hours I was amused and entertained by the play of guys playing a game that you could tell they truly loved. They ran out every ground ball and dove for the ball sacrificing their bodies just to play their game. The celebrated each time some crossed the plate, not to gloat, but for the joy.
I was close enough not only to hear the batters and the catchers talking to each other but the opposing players joking around with the fans near the batters box. It was amazing the conversation going on between the fans and the players. It was not all taunting or razzing, it was the players who came to this town a few times a year, that knew the fans by name and inquired about a few of the missing faithful. After the game players were talking with their wife’s and playing with their children who were so proud of their fathers even if they went 0 for 5. The players signed autographs for any kid who asked and that kids acted like he had just gotten Babe Ruth's autograph in person.
One the drive home I had a huge smile at the fact that in these time of upheaval that there is still a little piece of heaven here where you can relax and enjoy some popcorn and a hot dog with your family. The rest of the summer I went to about twenty more games basically when ever I got out of work and the weather was so beautiful I couldn't stay home. Now spring is here again and I can wait for that first fried dough and the to see if any of those opposing players will remember me.