Prologue
It was my second year playing Peewee Baseball at Costello Park during summer break. My family had moved us out of the Government Housing Projects known as Estrada Courts a few years earlier, but I insisted on playing baseball there as I had since I was a Tiny Tot. I was not very good as a Tiny Tot, and my first year playing Hard Ball was even worse. I had no hand to eye coordination, the ball traveled much faster than any under handed thrown pitch ever could, my glove was huge and heavy, and to top it all off I was an awkward lefty. And of course my team, the Padres, ended in last place that summer.
My second year playing hardball baseball found me on a last place team again, but this time I was selected as the MVP of my team, the Dodgers. The Most Valuable Player/s from each team would represent their team in the Park's Pee Wee Baseball All Star Team which would be playing other City Park Baseball All Star Teams. During that Fourth Grade year in grammar school my body had begun to change, and I was no longer so uncoordinated or physically awkward. I was so active during Recess and Lunch playing basketball, volleyball and a crazy running/capture/breakout game we called "Prisoner," that by the time summer came and it was time for baseball at the "old neighborhood," I was physically conditioned and ready. That summer, most coaches bypassed me when it came time to selecting players for their teams. I was not the best player, but I was definitely the most underrated and unknown player.
I sat myself at the very end of the bench, as far away from the coach's gaze as possible. I was the only blue uniform representing the Dodgers for the Pee Wee Baseball All Star Team of Costello Park in our first game against another park. It had been a great summer of baseball for me. My body had stretched out a little more, giving me some long legs, and I had definitely gained a lot more physical coordination and conditioning. I played my heart out that summer, and now found myself as an All Star.
Our team coach selected the starting nine players, made the batting order, and then our first three batters began to warm up. The competitor in me was disappointed and yet I was extremely relieved that I would not be starting in the game. My newly found athletic prowess still did not have the ability to overcome my introverted nature and much less my fear of failure.
Now the home team had finished warming up and they now stood in their fielding positions. They seemed like good disciplined baseball players. There side of the stands was filled with their families and friends, cheering them on. The umpire screamed, "Let's Play Baseball! Uhh Batter UP!"
Our first three hitters stepped up to the plate, only to be immediately retired. The Montecito Heights All Star pitcher had an arm. You could almost hear the catcher's glove sizzle after each pitch thrown. Those first three hitters didn't stand a chance. It was now time for our team to take the field.
I watched helplessly from the last space on the bench. Our first at bats had struck out, and now the other team was batting and hitting almost every pitch thrown. These kids were good, and by the time the first inning was over, they were up 3 to 0. But now it was our teams at bat, and our best player, Enrique "KIKI" Hernandez, was batting clean up so he batted first to start the 2nd inning. To our detriment and amazement, "Strike 1, Strike 2, Strike 3 and your Out" screamed the Umpire behind home plate. I had not seen Kiki strike out all summer. He could hit home runs with his eyes closed, or so it seemed to me back then. This was our best player and hitter, and even he could not hit this pitcher's fast ball. The next two batters quickly struck out as well.
The rest of the game continued in much the same fashion as it had started. Our coach had made a few changes to the line up, and had put in some of the other players to see if that would help to stop this powerhouse of a baseball team. Unfortunately, our batters could not swing fast enough at the ball, and their batters hit just about everything our pitchers threw at them. It was painful watching from the bench. I wanted so badly to go out there and play. I wanted to do something for my team to help them against these amazing young baseball players.
It was now the 9th inning. The Montecito Heights Park All Star Baseball team had decimated my team. It was now 13 - 0. Their pitcher was actually on a No-Hitter Shut Out. Our All Star summer baseball was about to be over with this loss. Strikes one, two and three came mercilessly quick for the first batter to start the Ninth Inning. 2 Outs left and this game was a wrap. The next player also struck out and now it was the final at bat. The mood was somber on our bench. No one on our side was cheering. Some kids were just kicking dirt or playing around but not paying attention to the game, which was pretty much over.
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The coached yelled out my name and said, "You're Up!." I froze there for a second, stunned. "There was only one Out left to end the game, and he calls me?" This silent thought echoed so loud in my head that it wasn't until another kid slammed a batting helmet on my head did I finally snap out of it. This was so completely unexpected that I had no time to fear anything. I was still in shock as I took some warm up swings. I remember clearly thinking that I too would fall victim to another strike out by three super Fast Balls.
I finally walked up to my destiny. I kicked and scratched at the dirt near home plate to set up my stance. I swung a couple warm up swings, bent my knees slightly, raised my arms and bat up. I took my batter's position. The pitcher studied his catcher for his signals. He wound up and just like that he sent a fast ball straight "down the pipe."
"STRIKE ONE" echoed loudly in my head, and that was now followed quickly by my heart beat echoing inside of my skull. That was the fastest pitch I had ever seen in my life, and now realized why my teammates had such a hard time hitting the baseball. This pitcher could throw. "STRIKE TWO" yelled the umpire, as I stood there helplessly. The second pitch came to the inside. It wasn't going to hit me, but it caused me to flinch, and I did not swing. It seemed as though his second pitch was faster than the first.
I looked at my coach, my teammates, and even to the bleachers. Everything was in slow motion now. There were no sounds but my own breathing. I saw no one but the pitcher. It literally seemed as though my field of vision had narrowed to an oval shaped opening allowing me to only see the pitcher. Everything else was dark grey around. The World had gone silent and its color had faded to black and white. The pitcher wound up, kicked his leg in the air and began his pitch forward. I had every inch and nerve of my body so in tune and focused on that ball, that at that moment, nothing else existed. My eyes had locked on that Fast Ball like Military Radar on an enemy Jet.
"Crack" went the sound as my baseball bat connected with that fast ball. I immediately felt that memorable jolt when you hit the ball just right and it almost self propels itself away from your swing. It seemed like my life was a Film Reel that had now returned to normal speed, the sound turned back on. Then everyone screamed while I dropped my bat and started to wind up my legs. I ran for First Base with all my speed, and I could see that backs of the right and center fielders, knowing they were still chasing the baseball, so I turned on the "Gas" as I rounded first heading for second. I felt my legs pumping like little engine pistons as I made sure to step on 2nd base heading into third. My third base coach was jumping up and down, "Winding Milling" his arms with the signal to "Go for Home."
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That final approach seemed like the longest base I had ran in all my life. I was so afraid of being called out that I remember just running with all my heart and then sliding into home for safe measures. By then my team mates had run off the bench to greet me at home. This was the greatest moment of my 10 years of life.
The next batter struck out of course, and we lost the game, 13-1 but we walked away feeling like the winners, or maybe just the spoilers to an incredible game by the Montecito Park All Stars that day. I was even given a $5 dollar tip for that home run and carried on the shoulders of some of the parents. We all must have learned something that summer because the following summer, we became the All Star Champs!
09/29/16
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