Keep Your Eye on the Ball

Spring training usually signals the start of Baseball season. The pitchers and catchers report in first, then the rest of those highly paid athletes who, hopefully, have kept themselves out of the news during the off season. It is a right of passage to what we all hope will be a long, hot summer. Something that most of us long for after the weather of these last few weeks.

However, Spring training came in a slightly different form for the manager and players of my favorite "home" team. We had to wait for the snow to melt and the fields to dry, long before we thought of picking up a glove, bat, or ball to cure us of the winter long drought from baseball. As the days became longer and the temperatures rose, the enthusiasm for America's game would spring to life. There weren't enough ball fields to keep the throngs of professional wannabees from exercising their skills on these "field of dreams".

My father would often take us to the park, especially if we planned to have some batting practice. However, in those days of old, you could almost count on the fields being filled, so we'd drive around until we found one that was free. Bats, balls, and gloves came piling out of the car, along with the future stars of the game, my brothers and me and sometimes even my sisters. We'd start with some batting practice, 10 or so hits apiece, and then we'd rotate to the outfield; Dad would usually pitch BP. One by one we'd each get a turn. Dad was constantly saying, "keep your eye on the ball" before he'd rear back and hurl the next pitch. We practiced this ritual nearly every weekend day from May through August. We were the boys of summer.

Occasionally, when the fields were all occupied, we would find some alternate site to hone our skills. These makeshift lots were just fine, except one thing, a backstop. What do you do when there isn't a backstop? You make one and bring that along too. So. my father put together his own, made out of "recycled" screens connected together, as if they were pieces of a puzzle. It worked out perfectly for this travel baseball team.

Now, when I pass a baseball diamond in the summer, it saddens me to see those same fields sitting there, yearning for the "chatter" of activity to begin again. There are always lessons to be learned from these wonderful experiences of my youth, and this is no exception. When we didn't have an official backstop, that didn't stop us. My father simply used his creative thinking and gave us a more than suitable alternative. But perhaps the real message, however subtle, that was passed on from our "manager and coach" was to keep our eye on the ball. He certainly succeeded in teaching all of us that one, and that has him batting a 1.000 (a thousand), Hall of Fame credentials in my book!