Baseball

I have been meaning to write this for several years now. I have wanted to tell let people know how much enjoyment I have received from baseball over the last twenty-five years that I have been a baseball fan. I fell away from the game of my youth when I was a teenager – too many other things going on and I lived in a town with out a professional team. And now, I find myself falling away again. I became a fan in 1980 after a friend started explaining the nuances of the game to me. I was hooked.

I became “Mr. Baseball” to my family (two brothers, four sisters) and I made them all baseball fans too. But I better get to the point. I was such a baseball fan that after my wife became pregnant, I held the baseball encyclopedia up on the dinner table and let it fall open so that I could randomly pick a baseball name for our first child. I pointed to the page with my eyes closed. I was astonished when my finger pointed to a player named “Buster Maynard”. It was so cool that my first child would have such a great baseball name. Well, my wife, being the more practical person in this marriage, vetoed my choice of names, for which I’ll bet my daughter is eternally grateful. But that name, that player has stuck in my family's folklore for eighteen years.

In my younger, more frivolous years, I listened to interviews and radio shows. I read articles, I watched all the games I could. I heard all sorts of baseball stories, great little pieces of Americana. I loved the spirit of it all. Hearing about the humanity of the players and all the baseball greats.

It must have been the mid-1990’s that I heard my first “Buster Maynard” story. I was listening to the great sportswriter, Phil Collier, before a game and he told a story of Buster Maynard. It seems that as a young journeyman player on his way up in the minor leagues he was admired by this certain 11 year old kid. That kid was so impressed that he asked Mr. Maynard for his autograph. Mr. Collier relayed that the esteemed Mr. Maynard was tired after a game and told the kid to get lost.

Years later, the story goes, when Mr. Maynard was on his way down in his career, he was facing a pitcher in the minor leagues. The pitcher brushed Buster back with several pitches and it was very clear that the pitcher had it in for him. After the game Maynard went up to the pitcher and asked him why he was so tough on him. It was then that the pitcher said he was the kid that didn’t get that autograph seven or eight years earlier. Mr. Collier mentioned that the pitcher that night in the mid 1950's was none other than Tommy Lasorda, the famous Los Angeles Dodger's Manager.

I have cherished that story ever since. As a fan of southern California baseball, I used to root against the Dodger's all the time. But I was sad when Tommy Lasorda retired. He truly was, and still is, a great Ambassador for Baseball.

I have always been impressed by the scope of Lasorda's career. I was impressed with his skill as the Dodger’s manager. I was extremely impressed by his comments as Manager of the Olympic Baseball Team. What he said was that it transcended the city teams, the professional teams. Because the players and coaches represented the whole country and everyone at that time became baseball fans rooting for the one team.

Tommy Lasorda has given me great pleasure as a baseball fan. But have to state that for a long time I was a San Diego Padres fan. I have been since I moved here in 1980. Sorry. But you have given baseball fans everywhere something to be proud of – the fact that we are Baseball fans. I have no motive for writing this other than to say thanks for all the great memories that I received from baseball. I am at heart a true baseball fan.

But I stated earlier that I have fallen away from baseball. The drugs and steroids scandals have really turned me off. I remember a fallen player, a once great competitor, whose skills waned a bit. He was out of baseball and died of a drug over dose. (I actually remember quite a few players that this happened to). I also remember owners and managers giving quotes to newspapers stating that they knew this one particular player was using drugs but they were winning, so...

So, I have weened myself off of baseball. It makes it easier now that my team is in last place. But I still miss the great ones, and I miss their stories. If the game changes, I may be back. Until then, I wish them all well.

David