The recent arrival of All-Star photos to my email inbox has helped bring back a flood of memories for me.
Many moons ago now (more than I care to admit quite frankly) I spent a little time on the recreation baseball fields of my hometown. I was not a star. I was nowhere near the best player on my team. Yet, the fun times had during those five years I competed remain with me to this day.
After a season in our county recreation department’s “Pee Wee” League, I moved up to Little League where I would compete the next four years.
The team I competed for gradually improved each year and by the time I was in my fourth and final season with the Red Sox, we were a title contender.
As the final game of the season approached, we had one loss. We were playing the team which gave us our lone defeat and had a chance to pull even in the standings with a victory. The game was not decided until the bottom of the last inning when our opponent rallied to score the game-winning run resulting in heartbreak for myself and my teammates.
It was something that stuck with me a long time. It was the final organized baseball game I ever played as I knew I did not have the skills necessary to continue in the next age group. I’d like to say that final game helped teach me how to lose with dignity, but I was anything but a gracious loser that day. I was mad. The loss hurt. It left a feeling of being punched in the stomach. It took me some time to finally get it out of my mind, although I can still see the opposing player dashing toward home to score the winning run.
With the advantage of hindsight now, I do realize I was able to learn about being part of a team and actually playing the sport helped me better understand it.
Those were good times, spent with childhood friends, many of whom I’m still in contact with to this day although not the level I would hope. We still talk about those days when we gather at our old school and see each other back in our hometown.
I hope the young players today get as much out of competing as we did. On the surface at least, it seems as if today’s youth leagues are given a more serious approach.
I can only hope all the fun has not been taken out of playing.
I think the next time I’m back in my hometown I will veer off and visit the old ballpark. I have a feeling I’ll still be able to picture a group of young ballplayers doing their best to win and having a little fun at the same time.
It just seems appropriate to think about it on July 4. Baseball, at any level, is about as American as you can get. I value those times from decades ago on the playing field and trust the memories will always remain vivid.
Chris Bridges is sports editor of the Barrow Journal. You can contact him at cbridges@barrowjournal.com.
