Set your story on the baseball field-- 4-10-22
“Take me out to the ballgame
Take me out with the crowd
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks
I don’t care if I never get back
Let me root, root, root for the home team
If they don’t win its a shame
For it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out
At the old ball game.”
George sang loudly to himself and any poor soul he happened to pass on his way to the baseball diamond, while tossing his ball up and catching it in his glove. Baseball was his life, it was his favorite thing to do, his friends said he ate, slept and breathed the game, maybe he did, so what? There were worse things he was sure. George was an all around player he could play any position on the team, but his favorite was shortstop. He had to be on his toes always ready for the ball and quick to think, it’s a very demanding position. George loves the challenges associated with that spot.
George loved practice as much as he loved to play a game, he’d played with this team since he was 6 years old they had a rhythm a familiarity that only comes from years of working and playing together. They practiced all year around preparing for the season. His friends and him all had high aspirations to be Major League players. Today was the first official practice for their high school team. George was really looking forward to getting in the batting cage and getting out on the field.
George was still humming and singing ”Take Me Out to the Ballgame”, when he arrived at the field. He saw all his buddies and a few new hopefuls. He wondered what their skill level was and what positions they were hoping for. He watched a few of the guys warming up, paying close attention to the new ones. The coaches called for everyone’s attention, George joined the guys in the outfield for stretches and instructions. While doing the jumping jacks and windmills, he watches the others closely, wondering if this year they will have the team that takes the state title. His mind wanders for a split second visualizing that, when he realizes that Coach has called them to line up and number off for a quick skills game.
The two teams are ready to square off, George’s team is up to bat first and he’s on deck warming up his swing…..
The alarm blasts him out of his pleasant dreams and he hears him mom holler that it’s time to get ready for school. A wide smile crosses George’s face as he jumps out of bed and begins to get ready for the day. Today is the first day of baseball practice and he can’t wait for school to let out and he can get out on the field again.
Story Slingers
April 10, 2022
Myrna Flynn
Baseball Fields and Baseball
This is not going to be a story, just some baseball/softball memories.
I think my brothers started me on baseball when I was big enough to hols a ball. Their first "instructions" that were drummed into my head were: "you throw like a girl" and "you run like a girl". They remedied my throwing by holding my arm back and bringing it forward so that the ball was thrown and not pushed. My running was improved by making me run until I was not mincing m steps. They also showed me how to hold the bat, how to swing the bat and how to hold bat to bunt.
Whenever they needed another player to play "weed-lot ball," I was in the game. If I remember I was about 5. It was baseball and I played without a glove because I didn't have one. (It was "weed-lot" because there was no sand so it could not be "sandlot".)
I guess I learned well, because when I was in the 5th grade, I played with the junior high team. That was great, except for mostly I played catcher, my least favorite position.
I guess my brothers did a good job because I was a good fielder and a good hitter, even getting a few homers. (I had to be a "heavy hitter" because I never became a fast runner.)
In Springdale, where we lived, we did not have a real schedule but we did play other schools. TRHen our family moved to Cheney. My mother's job as a switchboard operator and office manager for AT&T ended. AT&T put in a dial system and the office was closed. My mother got a job with the Cheney Telephone Company. The other reason for moving was so my brother could attend college.
I was scared and nervous moving to a new school where I knew no-one and everyone else knew everyone. Luckily, a kind girl named Laura Schmidt, came over, took me and introduced me to her friends. I settled in and enjoyed school.
But I found out there was no real softball program. There was only intramural games. The only games when we played other teams were at what were called play days where we played games all day long against 4 other schools. (These play days were set up for girls teams.) At these play days, our team usually was the winner of the games. (I do not remember losing any play days.)
Now move on from my personal experiences and on to Little League and watching my children play.
Brandon making an amazing catch in center field and doing a backward summersault in the process.
Ryanne throwing a ball from center field into a bucket sitting on home plate during practice and winning a Pepsi from her coaches, Brandon and Tracy.
Carrie playing even though it wasn't her favorite thing to do but she did so that we had enough players to field a team.
Ryanne excited when her All Star team won the Montana State Tournament and moved on to Regionals in Poulsbo, WA and placed 2nd. (against a big team of farm girls, who looked older than 15.)
Now to Ephrata High School's teams:
Ryanne played softball, but was disappointed that it was slow pitch and not fast pitch, that she had played in Little League. She also played during the summer with the city women's fast pitch team.
Her senior year in HS, played in the state tournament and she was given honorable mention by the person who picked State All Star Team.
Clancy pitched a no hit no run game.
(He also played in the Little League Olympics Series in Rochester, New York. His team, the River Dogs, won.)
My last memory that I will mention is, watching the Seattle Mariner's game. Our children gave us tickets as a gift. About half way through the players had a big Brou-ha-ha.
The Showdown
By: Ryanne Leavitt
Ya know, softball was life when I was a kid growing up in western Montana! When it wasn’t softball season I dreamed of softball season! My friends and I always had our gloves with us, waiting for a game of catch or a pick up game on the field. We played it at recess and in junior high we played it after lunch. No time was ever a bad time to play some softball!
I remember one day the boys were making fun, and saying that the reason we played softball was because we weren’t good enough, strong enough or fast enough to play baseball. Well, that wasn’t gonna fly with my friends and me. We set about arranging an afternoon clash, girls verses boys to show just who was “enough”. I said to Miney Pete, “if it is such a girl sport, let’s see you and those guys prove it by trying to play a softball game against us!”
Becky and I set about gathering girls from both of the Frenchtown little league soft ball teams to put together a top notch roster! I am not gonna lie, we knew we had an ace in the hole, Kareen Lundell. That girl could pitch like nobody’s business, easily 70+ mph! We also had some girls who could take the ball for a ride, Adrianna Gilbert for one. We were pretty confident in a win, or least being on par with those arrogant boys.
The designated afternoon arrived and everyone brought their gear to school! We headed to the field and the boys “graciously” let us be home team, believing we would need every advantage available. Kareen headed to the mound to warm up and Valerie was behind the plate. Zing! The first warm up pitch went sailing across the plate, then another and another. The eyes of the boys got a bit wider as they tried to time their swing to her pitch!
There was no umpire, just a group of girls out to prove themselves to a group of stinky boys! Miney Pete, being the boy that got them into this mess, headed to the plate first. Kareen wound up and let the ball fly, swing and a miss! He was light years behind the ball. He stepped out of the box, stretched, took one more warm up swing and back in the box he headed. Zip! The ball was past him before the bat left his shoulder.
His friends started jeering and cheering and rooting him to at least make contact! All us girls in the field started chanting R-E-D H-O-T! We got a team that’s red hot! The next pitch he almost got a hit from, the ball tipped off the bat and into the back stop. Those boys thought he was dialed in and was sure to get a hit, but the next pitch slid past for the out! The rest of that at bat for the boys followed the same pattern, and before they could say boo, it was the girls turn to face the pitcher!
WE let them pitch it in to us over hand since they didn’t know the fine art of the softball pitch. Kaboom, crack, bang, smack, zing! The girls were all over their pitches. The boys’ smiles faded and their snide remarks dissipated! By the end of that lunch break there was change in the air, there was respect coming from, the now humbled boys on that field.
Story Slingers Prompt
Baseball Topic
April 11, 2022
BASEBALL THERAPY
Daren Flynn
He was 14 years old that summer, about average for his age in both height and weight. So, physically, he blended in with his peers. But he did not fit in socially. He didn't think he was as good or as smart as his classmates. He thought they didn't like himbecaise they ignored him and didn't include him in their games and activities. his self esteem was so so that sometimes he just wanted to give up. This lack of self worth had begun when his family had moved to the small farming community where they now resided. That was a couple of years ago when he was in the sixth grade. His new school was so far ahead of his old one that he was completely lost and unable to answer questions that the other kids thought were simple. They snickered and looked at each other as if to say, "That new boy sure is dumb," at least that is what he thought they meant. So for the remainder of the sixth grade and all through the two years of Junior High he struggled as he played serious "catch up", while his self esteem continued to plummet.
In the seventh grade, in an attempt to gain acceptance as 'one of the guys', he decided to try out for the basketball team. Everyone who tried out, all twelve boys, made the team. the only problem was there were only ten matching uniforms. He and the 'number eleven' boy were issued practice uniforms which were a different color and signified to him that he was not 'one of the guys'. So his place on the bench was established and maintained for those two years in Junior High, and his self worth continued its downward spiral. He did get off the bench and into the game occasionally, but he knew it was just because everyone had to be allowed to play some.
Now that he had graduated from Junior High School (they passed everyone no matter what) he guessed. That had to be the reason they passed him because he was still way behind the rest of the kids. Now he was thinking about High School and how hard it was going to be. He really wanted to be on a team and earn a letter and be accepted by the other kids, but he was afraid he wouldn't be able to get good enough and besides he wasn't good enough to make the basketball team in High School. They had given him a letter for being on the Junior High basketball team, but he didn't feel like ehe had earned it. He thought it was kind of like the graduation, everyone gets a letter or a diploma no matter.
He thought long and hard about his chances to earn a letter in High School, but the more he thought about it the more discouraged he became. He knew it would be impossible and all the kids would still look down on him and shake their heads laughing at his incompetence. Since his basketball talent was next to zero he was at the point of giving up totally, when his Dad, who had pitched for a semi-pro team for a couple of seasons, suggested he try baseball. He said, "I can teach you to pitch if that is where your talent lies, but it will take hard work and dedication. Will you do it?" His response was a resounding, "YES!"
So his dad took him to the local hardware store, which served as the town's sporting goods outlet as well, and helped him pick out a baseball glove. The two of them then went home and paced off 60 feet six inches, the proper distance between the pitcher's rubber and home plate. Then began, what became the best summer of the youth's life. He learned more about his dad that summer that he had during the previous fourteen years, and he learned a lot about himself too. He learned that he was not dumb or slow or incompetent and that he could do difficult things. His self image and confidence improved dramatically as his dad encouraged and complimented him for his grasp of the techniques he was learning and for his hard work as he practiced. He learned the proper grip for throwing fastballs, curve balls, sliders and change ups. He was taught proper arm and body motion and release point. His dad stressed the importance of proper follow through and he said, "No matter what pitch, fastball, curve, or change up, your arm and body motion should look the same to the batter.Don't let him know what is coming." One of the most important principles he learned that summer, as they worked in the back yard every evening after his dad's work day was finished, was to keep his eye on the goal. HIs dad put it this way, "Keep your eye on the target. Don't just get it in the strike zone. Hit the mitt."
By the end of that memorable summer there was a strong father-son bond that would last a lifetime. And a boy, filled with self doubt and hopelessness, had been transformed into a youth filled with confidence and self respect. His desire of the past, to be one of the crowd, was replaced by his determination to be his own person and to be the best he could be.
High school was not quite as hard as he thought it would be but it was definitely ant easy for him. He struggled and worked hard with his eye on the goal of making the Baseball team in the spring, and getting passing grades. He didn't socialize much that freshman year but the other kids didn't tease or make fun of him as he thought they had before. It seemed to him that spring and baseball season would never come. Every day after school, weather permitting, he would go out to the back yard and pitch to a spot he had painted on the wall of the shed.
When baseball season finally arrived and try outs were conducted there were several boys who wanted to be pitchers and each was given the opportunity to show his stuff to the coach. After a few practice sessions some of the aspiring pitchers were assigned other positions but the newly self confident Freshman had impressed the coach and was selected as one of the pitching staff. He didn't just ride the bench that season, but pitched a few games and did very well. When he pitched in a game he remembered the things he had learned from his dad and put them into practice and his confidence continued to grow. His dad attended every home game, sitting directly behind hime plate, in support of his son. Following the games, in which he pitched his dad shared tips from his observation that allowed the youth to continue to improve. This pattern continued through the four years of the youngster's High School career.
His freshman and sophomore years were years of progress, both on and off the baseball diamond. They were years that had to be considered successful. He won some games and lost some. His school work and grades improved as he worked with the same determination he put into his efforts on the pitcher's mound.
HIs baseball season in his junior year was cut short by a case of the mumps. But his win loss record, before he was down and out for the season, was perfect.
The next year, as a senior, he also turned in a perfect win loss record as he was the pitcher of record in more than half the team's schedule. Two of those wins were back to back shut-outs, one a two hitter and the other a no hitter.
He went on to have a couple of successful years of college baseball before hanging up his glove and getting on with his life.
Oh, yes, back in high school he was accepted as 'one of the guys' but that really didn't matter to him then because he knew who he was and that he did not need to identify with the crowd.
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