Published: March 03, 2009 11:49 pm      

CORTESE: Young pro baseball prospects

An ad caught my eye a few weeks ago in the Edmond Sun newspaper. Edmond All Sports Inc. (EASI) was looking for Umpires for the upcoming youth baseball season. What is this all about I thought to myself? Must be getting ready for the start of baseball? Youth baseball, oh do I remember it well. What fun it was raising two sons who I thought might be able to make it to the big leagues someday. I was sure these kids had what it takes. I remember, driving them not only around the cities of Boulder and Denver, but to other hot spots like Steamboat Springs and Vail just to play games. Many times playing teams from other states. If memory serve me well I think one year they played about thirty games during the Spring and Summer Months.

Jim, my oldest by a little more than a year, was smooth playing the infield. I even saw him turn a double play once. Granted, he was playing second base when he caught a pop up by the bag and his momentum carried him on to the base as the runner from second ran for third. I think that kid is still running.

Jim wasn’t much at the plate, but I knew he would get better with age. He was, however, a very capable bunter. In one very important game he bunted three times and made it to first base safely, all three times. I think the next time he got up he was hit by the pitcher, what a great ride home. Unfortunately, in the next game he struck out four straight times. Wasn’t sure why the coach didn’t have him bunt.

I remember one time Jim was standing at the plate, cleaning his cleats and looking at the coach on third base giving him the signals. Our team was losing 18-17. There were two outs and bases loaded. I remember the count being three balls and two strikes. (Jim tried to bunt twice but they both bounced foul.) I was a wreck, nervously I yelled encouragement.

“Come on Jim you can do it. It only takes one. Keep your eye on the ball . A walk is as good as a hit.”

Damn I was mad, I didn’t know any other baseball lingo to yell at my son while he was in such a crucial athletic situation. I even thought about some football jargon. “Hit him again, hit him again, harder, harder,” but it just didn’t seem to fit.

The opposing pitcher winds up and I yell, “BALK, BALK.” I wasn’t sure what caused a balk but I was sure that pitcher must have did it. As the ball sailed out of the pitchers hand, I could see it was going real high and inside. My son alertly recognized the ball was coming towards his head, threw up his arms and hit the dust. I was relieved to say the least. However, in dropping to the ground the bat went up (didn’t leave his hands) and the ball actually hit the bat and rolled towards that sneaky pitcher. He fielded the ball, tossed it over to first base and recorded the final out of the inning.

We lost that game 18-17. On the way home Jim had tears in his eyes and told me he didn’t intend to hit the ball. He said he knew it was out of the strike zone he was just trying to get out of the way. He didn’t think it was fair that a bad pitch accidentally hitting a bat, should be counted as an out. Naturally, I agreed as we pulled into Dairy Queen. After a banana split with all the trimmings, Jim and his brother Jeff were planning to shoot the basketball when they got home. I was still a wreck from the game.

Post script: Neither Jim or Jeff ever played high school baseball.

Thought for the week: “Live so that your son, when people tell him that he reminds them of you, will stick out his chest, not his tongue” — Unknown