My First Baseball Season

I grew up playing softball in Willowdale. There were no baseball teams. If you wanted to play hardball, you had to go down to Talbot Park in Toronto. The coach of the team was a fellow by the name of Roger Nielson, who eventually became an NHL hockey coach.

There are times I wish I had played baseball. I had the natural ability of being able to throw a ball fast, hard and accurately. I figure I would have been one of the best pitchers around. All I can do is imagine.

I got my first chance to play baseball in England. I was 36 years old, so my dreams of the major leagues were gone.

I worked for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in London and I did a story for the radio on the Croydon Bluejays. The team was formed by a group of Canadian soldiers who stayed in England after the war.

When I met Kevin, the manager of the team, we chatted about ball and the next thing I knew I was on the team.

I started in the outfield. I hated it. After playing softball with its smaller dimensions, I felt as if I was half way across the city. I felt lonely.

Fortunately the catcher on the team moved away and I took over behind the plate. Quickly the team found that I felt that a catcher was not merely somebody who caught the ball. I actually called the pitches in the game and worked with the pitchers. In other words, I developed strategies of getting the batter out.

One strategy I used was to continually talk to the batter. I’d talk about the weather, yesterday’s football match, anything to take his concentration off the pitch.

The major problem I had was on the basebaths. In softball, the bases are 60 feet apart. In baseball, the distance is 90 feet. You are also allowed to take a leadoff.

The first time I got a hit, I was standing on first and I told Kevin that I had no idea of how far I could go off the base for a leadoff. He helped me, but the pitcher tried to pick me off. I dove back to the base just in time. I decided that I wanted to put an end to this game of cat and mouse. The next time the first baseman came over to cover the bag, I rubbed his bum. After that, he didn’t want to stand near me at all. I could take a huge leadoff.

This created my second problem. I decided to steal second. I had the rhythm down perfect for softball. It was a certain number of steps and slide. I didn’t have the same feel for baseball. I took off, but I slid too late. The bases were solidly anchored into the ground and I severely bruised my tailbone.

I really enjoyed the season. The guys were great and our team was pretty good. Many of the fields we played on were just that – fields. There were no backstops, so if you missed the ball behind the plate, it rolled pretty far.

I enjoyed the first year so much that I played a second one. Near the end of the second year, I actually got an opportunity to pitch. This particular field had a mound. I almost fell over on the first pitch.

Soon after that my baseball career was over. I moved back to Canada. What’s great about these episodes in life is that as you look back, you realize that you were a legend. As the years go by, the legend becomes better and better and you realize that you had ability that you never had.

I figure by the time I am eighty, I will be the best baseball player that ever lived.