It's Personal: Baseball Part II

When baseball is no longer fun, it's no longer a game. -Joe DiMaggio

When last I spoke of baseball, the 2009 season had only barely begun. The Mariners were off to a strong start. The Yanks weren't. And every teams' fans were hopeful that this could be the year. Even those fans of the Cubbies.

I give you the link to refresh your memory: It's Personal: Baseball Part I

I had just succeeded in winning a championship of sorts on the ServiceMaster sponsored team. And it was time to grow up, i.e. move into Little League. That meant the royal blue and tacky yellow of Ulbrich - a major processor and distributor of stainless steel, nickel alloys, titanium, and other special metals.

I spent a few years on Ulbrich.

During that first year, we were winless. And most of the guys didn't seem to care. Neither did the coach, for that matter. So, we were the butts of endless adolescent jokes. Lots of fun for a kid who didn't feel great about himself in the first place.

But that was the year when I first started playing catcher, a position I must admit I enjoyed thoroughly.

The second year, my father took the reigns and became the Ulbrich coach. In addition, my brother moved into the league. A pitcher, he and I became a better than average battery. Though I can't say Ulbrich became a much better team. We just didn't have the talent. Because we didn't have the popular kids. A scenario to which I became accustomed over time.

The third year, we were better, but not good enough to vie for a championship of any kind. Only good enough not to be the butts of jokes.

I remember only one game on Ulbrich clearly. We were playing Tech Circuits, a team that had the kid who was considered the meanest kid in the league. He liked to slide into people to hurt them. Or, if he were particularly ornery, he'd just run through a guy. Above all people, he angered me the most. Almost to the point of pubescent hatred. And so I approached that game like I have approached few games in my life - with a huge chip on my shoulder. I had a single, a double, and a triple in that game. (I've never actually hit a home run in any organized game.) And I got run over by that meanest of kids in a play at home. But I held onto the ball. Boy, did my nose bleed that day...

I graduated from Ulbrich to the Babe Ruth League. I was marginal at best, though I kept my place at catcher. I played mostly with guys from the other side of the tracks (which in Wallingford meant future Sheehan grads) so I never really clicked with them. Instead, I just endured and played the game because I thought it was expected of me.

After a year of Babe Ruth, I joined the Lyman Hall Trojans baseball team in February, 1992. I stopped being a catcher and instead became an outfielder. A right fielder, to be exact. Where marginal high school freshmen fade away.

My sophomore and junior years followed in much the same way. I rarely impressed the coaches with my skill; it was my work ethic that kept me on the team. On those rare occasions - including a catch on a dead run in the freshman game against North Haven and a double to the fence in Doolittle Park after some tips from the old man - I beamed proudly and received the astonished encouragement of my coaches and teammates. I only wish those occasions were more than occasional.

My senior year. Again, I went out for the team. I actually hit a single in the first practice game against the Platt Panthers. I made the team again. Because of my work ethic. But I wasn't good enough to play. I knew it. The team knew it. The coach knew it. I therefore had a choice. To stay on the team and be a glorified manager who could keep score and cheer for the team. Or to quit the team and enjoy my final spring in high school.

I folded my uniform for the last time and found the head coach. I handed him the uniform without a word. He took the uniform under one arm and extended his hand. 'You're a great guy; I know you're gonna be successful,' the coach said in that awkward way that coaches have in those situations. We shook hands and I exited the gym, no longer a baseball player.

It just wasn't fun anymore.

I haven't played baseball since...

But I didn't stop loving the game. Not to mention the fact that there exists a game much akin to baseball for those like me. And I ain't talkin' 'bout cricket...