June 2011
yo y'all,
played down at Billy Goode's tonite - uh, wasn't the best crowd ever - bunch of drunk Navy dudes and dudettes who didn't even get a rise out of my slide set... no big deal, felt like Murphy's Pub in ol' Wallingford, Seattle, Wa , USA...
did strike up a conversation with a young dude at the bar who was watching games on the screen - the Billy Goodes Softball team was in the house wearing their new Green and Gold uniform caps and shirts - nice look... made me remember the glory days of playing for multiple softball teams, the best being Honeywell in the Fairfax County 1B league - "Joe Theisman's Restaurant" the USA Softball national champs one division up.... so close, but the best part was just playing the game at such a level for fun....
dude with the shirt box comes up and tells my man, " maybe next year - we have a solid line up"... BULLSHIT! there is no thang as a solid roster, you always look for players... but i guess he doesn't think this kid has the talent - funny, the kid looks a bit like Dizzy Dean!
after mister coach "i'm a loser" walked away i saw the look in the kid's eyes - i've seen it a lot back in the day in the mirror - "i can play... just give me the ball"... dejection sets in...
no one ever let me play unless i fought for it - the rest was always so much joy for me - see the ball. catch the ball. throw the ball. hit the ball - and always - run like the wind until it makes you laugh.... i always loved being underestimated - was always my edge...
so we started talking as Jim McGrath played in the background and i quizzed him about baseball and hitting and fielding - turns out he only has his late father's glove and couldn't bear to use it because it was his only remembrance of something his father had touched - oh, my... can't play ball if you don't have a mitt of your own. it's an almost
sacred thing, especially for a player who prides himself on defense - and - uh - what else really matters...
i told the kid (to make this a little shorter) - don't let that M.F. tell you you can't play... you have it if you believe it - just stay after him and show him he's wrong. then i showed him the TY Cobb split grip and told him you watch some Paul Blair footage and you'll know all you need about playing outfields... he tells me, "those guys could
use you..." - i laugh very robustly and say: "no - they need you and don't let 'em tell you no..."
closing time came and i grabbed Skunk and wandered down to my car - opened the trunk to put Skunk the guitar in - and saw my old Rawlings glove with softball sitting lonely in the cold...
you see, i had put it there when i cruised South - maybe toss the ball a bit with Buzzy out in the street... can't play anymore - lessen i was an idiot, nope - bad quad and good sense. let it go. let it go... tossed Skunk in and reached out for the Rawlings... pulled up to the curb at Billy Goode's and hit the flashers... walked in with the mitt in my hands and walked up to Chris (imagine that - another Chris) and tucked it in his gut like Sonny Jurgensen handing off to Larry Brown... he says "No Way!?!?!" i says - "that thang ain't doing me no good - give it a soak in Quaker State 30W or Rawlings glove oil and go play some ball!"...
the look in his eyes as he was popping the ball into the mitt was priceless - i probably had the same gleam when Sonny Jurgensen signed my my Mizuno Monster between innings in Virginia while i was playing co-ed at one field while his son was playing Babe Ruth at the adjacent field... and that Mizuno was always a magical vacuum cleaner until the day some cretin stole it in Seattle...
so what?
i smell fresh cut grass and hear the slap of horsehide (or whatever they make them balls out of nowadays) against leather and see a smile and hear a laugh from some guy who loves a game...
and that is all i got to say,
vid mars
-30-
(thanks, vid. Panama)
