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Great Writing - Home > Short S. > OPENING DAY AT TWIM CITIES
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| OPENING DAY AT TWIM CITIES | |
| By GILLY | ||||||
| 07 December 2006 | ||||||
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REMEMBERING BASEBALL AS A KID OPENING DAY AT TWIN CITIES Some weeks ago, while having a night off I was driving along the Gulf Road after leaving the Shaqui Mall. The Shaqui Mall is in main section of Kuwait City. The Mall had closed at 10 pm, except for the Sultan Center, a sort of 24 hour Grocery and Department store. I had just bought some new trainers for the foot problems on my left heal. The time was around 1:00 am so I took a chance on the radio, (for a change) and tuned into the American Forces Network. The station for me was more bearable knowing they have an oldies program after midnight. A song came on from either 1967 or 1968. It may have been from Spanky and Our Gang, but frankly I can’t remember the song. Still, it had an effect on me. I was able to remember being back in California age 11, back in the fifth Grade and more specifically playing Little League Baseball. It‘s funny how a song triggers memories. My parents, who are in their late 70’s still become sentimental over songs from the 30’s and 40’s. OPENING DAY I was playing for the Cala Foods baseball team. They were our sponsor from Corte Madera. Mr. Santello was the Manager, and Mr. Lucci was the assistant Coach. On opening day we played against the Corte Madera Lions. There were in fact two teams named Lions. The other team was the Larkspur Lions. I always preferred the sound of the Larksput Lions. Their uniforms looked better too. It was hot out that day, really hot, but now like here in Kuwait. It was in the mid 90s. I was the second batter for that day. Stephen Burgess was our first guy up on the line up. After the games the players would eat snow cones. Behind the baseball field there was a small canyon where a local train ran. We still had trains go through Marin in those days. It was coming close to its end though. One or two years later even the cargo trains didn’t pass anymore. An arched bridge crossed the tiny canyon, right behind home plate. It was only about 20 feet deep, this canyon, and the bridge couldn’t have been more than 100 feet long. If a player hit a foul ball and you returned it you received a free snow cone. Nothing ever tasted better than a free one. Not much in my life happened that year while I was playing for Cala Foods. It was however a big year. Martin Luther King JR. and Robert Kennedy had both been assassinated. My parents had found a new house that year and we move just after our baseball season ended in August. On that opening day we were the defending champions. It is the closest I’ve ever come to being on the winning team of any sport. On that days’ playing I went up to the plate 5 times, and was put out 4 of those times. Stephen and I were both up 5 times. I struck out the first time, and was walked the second time. I was at first base and I remember people yelling that the first baseman had the ball. I also remember planting my foot on the bag and waiting, but I must have moved my foot off adjusting because I was tagged out. The next two times are a blurr, but I probably struck out at the plate. It’s hard to hit a baseball, harder than you think, let me tell you, it’s harder than hitting the ball in cricket, except of course when you are out in cricket you are really out. On Stephen’s second time up he hit a home run. He changed bats after he had two strikes and connected solid, hitting it right over the left center fence 200 feet away. On my last time at bat, we were tied with the Lions and Stephen was on 3rd base. Mr. Santello walked over to me before I went up to bat. He was so intimidating. I was pretty frightened of him, “Just try to hit the ball Eric, don’t murder it, just concentrate and see the bat hit the ball OK?” I don’t know what I answered, but he had me scared. I was more afraid of Mr. Santello than not hitting the ball. My memory of hitting the ball was only that it moved low after I made contact. The ball went right towards the short stop and I ran for all I was worth to first base. The shortstop tried to throw Stephen out at home plate instead of me which if they thought about it, was more risky. Stephen already had a jump on the ball and to get him out they had to tag him. To get me out at first it was just a matter of rifling the ball to the first baseman, end of story. We had two outs at the time. If I was out the run would not have counted. Well I was ecstatic; I had finally came through and hit the ball in the game. Mr. Santello yelled at me anyway, as he always did to us kids, but he was like that. It turns out it didn’t count as a hit either. Something called a 'fielder’s choice' which means I didn’t get credit. Some of the older guys informed me of this minor detail, which I didn’t really want to hear about at that time. I was too happy. If you listen to people like that they’ll whittle down whatever you do. That season before moving to San Anselmo the defending Champions lost 6 games out of the 18 and came in 3rd place. I forgot who came in 2nd, but our team beat the Champions 2 out of the 3 times. The first time being on opening day. I still remember one of the players on the Lions coming over to our dugout when they finally beat us. Scott Thurman I think was his name. He walked over to say “good game” as players do, but when we saw him up close he didn’t say anything like that, in fact he was crying. He kept repeating,” not 3 times, not 3 times.” I had never thought winning a baseball game would make you cry.
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