Woohoo! Baseball is back; opening day is coming Thursday

FROM MY FRONT PORCH

Sam Houston is the publisher of the Hood County News. He is also an actor, author, playwright, performer and entertainment producer/promoter.

It is very hard for me to express the emotions and feelings I have for baseball. They are deeply rooted in my very soul and without a doubt, knowing and understanding baseball makes me a better human being.

Not sure when I first became a fan. I can remember going to the old Sportsman’s Park in St Louis at the age of 6 or 7. My father had been given a couple of tickets and it was my first time to go to a major league game. I will never forget the number of people in the crowd as we walked from the car to enter the ballpark. I can still feel the awe I felt walking through the gate and getting my first glance at the field. In my mind’s eye, I can still see the players taking infield practice and the excitement of knowing they were real “big leaguers.” In my youthful heart, they were gods. I saw legendary Hall of Famers Stan “The Man” Musial and Willie Mays play that day.

Then there were the sights and smells of the ballpark. I was amused as the concession workers would walk up and down the aisles hawking their wares. I was curious how people knew to pass drinks down an aisle and then pass the money to pay for the drinks via the reverse route.

There was a distinct smell of grass and popcorn in the air. I kept noticing people eating peanuts and simply throwing the shells on the ground — and being told by my father such behavior was acceptable at the ballpark but for me not to try it on my mother’s living room carpet. I learned that perhaps no place in the world does a hot dog taste as good as at the ballpark.

My dad explained the intricacies of the game. I learned it was appropriate to “steal” a base even though it seemed like I had received conflicting directives about “stealing” from my folks and from Sunday school. I also learned in the world of baseball, the “hit and run” was a good thing, and not a description of something I would do to my little sister. Baseball was a different world, and it became a big part of my world.

When I wasn’t at the ballpark, my friends and I would play catch for hours. We made up imaginary baseball games and we knew all the players on all the major league teams. Something about playing catch with another allows you to be yourself and get in touch with the world around you, especially the fella you are playing with. We were outside in the heat, sun, and wind, but it did not matter because of the joy we felt when we could hear the pop of the ball hitting our glove. We loved the sting of the horsehide against our hand, and no one ever forgets the feel and the sound of a bat striking a baseball on the sweet spot. I cannot count the number of nights I fell asleep listening to a ballgame on the radio. We collected baseball cards, saving our paltry allowances to spend on the chance a package contained a Bob Gibson or Ken Boyer card.

Baseball is life. Baseball calls for teamwork in the field, but when a player is at bat, calls for individual accomplishment. To be a good ballplayer, you must be able to do both. Because there are so many games played, a man learns to lose and accept failure and to relish winning and being on a hot streak. He also learns a game is never over until the last out and thus there is never a reason to quit or give up. A baseball player who gets a hit three out of every 10 times at bat, is an all-star. I came to understand life never lets us “bat 1000%.” Baseball taught me that when you fail the only acceptable thing to do is get back in the batter’s box and swing again.

Umpires taught me life is full of disagreements and not everyone will see things the same way. Sometimes we must accept a decision that is beyond our control, persevere and overcome. There will always be grounders that take a bad hop and curveballs that hang. There will be fly balls that get blown over the fence and some that get hung up in the wind and end up being nothing but a long out. There are times where a batter strikes the ball right on the button, but it is hit straight at a fielder for an out.  Such is life. Baseball taught me all of this. Baseball gave me joy. Baseball made me a better man.

This week the major league season begins again. Fans of all the teams are optimistic this might be their year and there is an entire summer of baseball to look forward to. God bless baseball for the lessons it teaches and the memories it generates.

Thought for the day. Life is like a baseball game. When you are certain a fastball is coming, you still gotta be ready to hit the curve.

Until next time…

sam@hcnews.com | 817-573-7066, ext. 260