Grasshopper No.5 lives in Minneapolis, the site of the Major League Baseball All-Star game. Usually the game is played on a warm Summer night. Right! Last night, Minneapolis temperatures were in the 50’s with a cold rain falling.
Monday night before the All-Star game is dedicated to the Home Run Derby.
The “little boy” in everyone who has ever played baseball, young or old, fanticizes about hitting tape measure home runs. A home run is the ultimate statement. The batter hits the ball so hard and so far that it allows trotting around the bases, waving to the crowd and getting a “hero’s” worship. “Take that”!
My Dad could never totally let go of his “dream”. The dream was to play in the major leagues, hit home runs and enjoy the adulation that comes with success. He constantly found little ways to keep the fantasy alive.
I remember that every Tuesday and Thursday the City of Plymouth would provide a free baseball program at the City Park – 9:00 a.m. My Dad would show up and become a coach of one boy’s team (12-16 years old). The other coach was the Program Director, Warner Finke. The coaches would choose teams by picking players on an alternate basis. For a boy it was embarassing to be picked last. The coaches didn’t sit on the bench; they played. Both Finke and my Dad batted left handed and tried to hit pitches over a very, very short left field stone fence. Of course, they hit many home runs. The two coaches (both little boys at heart) had a chance to live their fantasy, just for a moment. It might just as well have been a tape measure home run at Yankee Stadium to win the World Series.
So, laugh if you will at the Home Run Contest in Minneapolis. Forget the cold and rain. It is a lot of talented baseball players showing off. The “little boy” in all of us was on display. What is wrong with that? I’m sure my Dad was watching.
Love,
Dad