A poll on ESPN’s Page 2 today asking what your personal “One Shining Moment” is (one of the choices was “That Little League Home Run”) brought back a memory.
I sucked at baseball. I can admit it. I was a gangly pale dork that had the coordination of a parapalegic otter. And Little League isn’t exactly set up to support the ego of such elementary school specimens.
Everyone can be in Junior League (the littlest of the little leagues for k-2 or so) and Minor Leage (the next step up, for 3-4 or so). But the Major Leagues only held a draft. You had to be drafted from a Minor League team to make a Major League team. This meant that kids of 11 or 12 or so had to go through the pressure of tryouts and a draft, hoping they would get picked so they don’t have to be one of the Losers that are old enough to be in the Majors but stuck in the Minors.
I remember tryouts for Major League. They sucked. You had to throw and hit and pitch and basically, if you’re uncoordianted, make an ass of yourself. But I had a secret weapon! I was a member of the previous year’s Minor League undefeated champions. And if there’s anything a coach likes more than skill, it’s a player who’s been on a winner (no matter how bad – just look at any pro sports draft for that player that went in the 1st or 2nd round just because who they played for). Heck, that ENTIRE Minor League team got voted to the Minor League All Star team (including me, even though I could barely get a base hit). I wish I could find my old All Star hat. Take that! See! I’m an All Star!!
So I got lucky. I got drafted onto the WORST Major League team. I rode the pine and when I got to play, I played right field. I could barely get on base – these kids pitching are harder than that pitching machine in Minor League!
Then came my One Shining Moment. No one on base, no outs. I wast first up for the inning. Here’s the pitch….
CHINK! (remember, metal bats for kids) I drive a pathetic hit towards the short stop. I’m huffing and puffing, heading towards first. The shortstop gets the ball and… overthrows the 1st baseman!!!
The 1st base coach tells me to keep going. My spindly little legs are going as fast as they can. The 1st baseman finally gets the ball and throws to third base to stop me at second.
It sails over the third baseman’s head!! So at this moment, I’m seeing the thrid base coach waving me on to third base. The third baseman is scrambling to find the ball. Third base is looming. What should I do?
Stop at third base.
What do I do?
I keep on going, rounding third and towards home. I don’t remember the third base coach waving me on to home. I don’t think he did. The only thing going through my head was “Inside The Park Home Run Inside The Park Home Run”
Behind me, the third baseman finally found the ball, out towards the outfied a bit. I’m heading towards home. Halfway there. I hear my coach yelling “slide! slide!” and I can only guess that the ball is on its way to the catcher. I’m going to be tagged out at home.
So I do what anyone would do. I slide. Head first into home plate. Right under the catcher’s glove for an inside the park home run. I did it! I did it!! In the dugout I was all smiles, I was boasting that I had slid into home “just like Pete Rose, headfirst!” I had meant to do that! I was the hero of the moment.
But I knew. In my head I knew what had really happened. See, when I was just a few feet from home plate, I knew I needed to slide. My gangly legs wouldn’t move right. All they wanted to do was keep moving. Somewhere between my brain and my feet the signal got messed up and I tripped.
Yup. I fell. Tripped and slid into home on my face. Safe.
So I did what any 5th grade boy would do. I said I meant to do it, just like Pete Rose. My One Shining Moment.
Post a Comment