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Thursday, August 7, 2008

Baseball on the Tarmac

It is the beginning of April in the Catskill Mountains. Why are there twenty boys and a baseball coach on the high school tennis courts with no tennis nets or tennis rackets? Well the Yankees and Red Sox go to Florida for spring training, the Onteora Central School baseball team heads to the tarmac. In the spring of 1962 there was no baseball field at the high school. So our team's initial infield practice was held on two tennis courts. I was trying out for the team and was placed at second base, a spot near but not actually adjacent to one of the metal posts that supported one side of the tennis net for most of the late spring, summer and fall. The paved surface of the courts with its dark colors was perfect for an early snow melt. The outdoor temperature was in the mid forties, perfect baseball weather. The coach would hit ground balls with a fungo bat working his way from first base to second, to short and third, then back again.

The hard surface of the tarmac made the use of a rubberized baseball a necessity. As hit by the coach the ball would spin and each subsequent bounce of the ball would be either abnormally high or low depending on the spin imparted by the tennis court surface. But even the low bounces were almost knee high. I mentioned I was placed at second base. In my sophomore year in high school I possibly was five feet five inches and weighed one hundred and twenty-five pounds. I looked natural for a second baseman. As practice wore on, I was eventually moved over to third base. In his wisdom, the coach decided it would be better for the team if the third baseman was able to catch a ground ball and throw it all the way to the first baseman. Now throwing ball after ball from third base to first base – let's see the infield is a diamond but a truly a square with ninety feet between bases and that make the throw 90 feet times 2 or 127 feet – for a one hundred and twenty-five pound teenager in forty-five degree weather is not good for the arm muscles. By the time the season started, I was praying that the ball would be hit anywhere but third base!

Those of you who have baseball in your veins realize that the beginning of April is a late start for spring training. Our first two weeks of training were in the gym! We would exercise and warm up our throwing arms, as much as our small gym would allow. Most memorable was practicing our base running which included sliding into base. This was done by laying potato sacks on the floor and running as fast as you could then flinging out your feet hoping beyond all hope that your thigh and hip would land on the potato sack and not the dry, hard gym floor. This was cruel. This was not baseball.

Time for our first game, and we were fortunate to be starting with a home game. So at 2:00 PM we head for the bus – home game? Remember, Onteora Central School did not have a baseball field. We all rode the bus to Kingston which was nineteen miles away for our home games. I forget what team was our opponent that game. Little wonder since most games were the same for us. We were the antithesis of undefeated. It was not the bus trip that put us at our biggest disadvantage. It was trying to catch ground balls that were not taking tarmac hops and the fact that we have had no batting practice at all. It was a long season. I missed one game with a dental emergency. We were playing a powerful Marlboro team. I learned the next day that we had lost 43 - 2 and that they called the game due to darkness in the third inning. My replacement at third base had made six errors in the first inning. It was bad.

The next year the school district added a baseball field on the huge terraced hill behind the gym that was home to our a track oval and a football field. What did not get put in was a right field! The base path from first base to second base was parallel to the backstretch for the track and the distance between the second baseman and right fielder allowed for intimate conversations. A rocky slope was directly behind the right fielder then there was the woods leading up the mountainside. There was a stake in right center field that designated any ball into the woods was considered a double whether it was a four hundred foot blast or a two hundred foot pop up. Oddly left field went on forever. A foul pop fly to the right of the third baseman was an adventure. If you crossed the running track to catch it, you ran the risk of running off the side of the terrace. I will say that the stake in our right field was a step up from the manure pile used to indicate ground rule doubles at the home field for the Pine Bush team.

We actually won a couple of games the year we had our own home field. Being able to practice on a real field including hitting pitched balls prior to the start of the season is a plus. I enjoyed playing ball and the teams that we played were overjoyed to have us on the schedule. It isn't often you can be that happy and at the same time make those around you feel the same.

Now baseball at Onteora has improved. My brother-in-law eventually became the coach and did a wonderful job with the program. My nephew played ball on the team and went on to college with a baseball scholarship. The school has a real baseball field now and it doesn't share real estate with the track team and football team. As I think back I do not remember us winning any football games that year either. But our high school band won state awards. Perhaps the reason for the terraced field was for the marching band. The football field was added so they would have a reason to mark up the field to aid the band in perfecting their routines.

My only regret is that if we had started the game against Marlboro earlier in the day, I wonder if we could have come back to win? It only takes a few walks and well placed hits to score forty-one runs.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

poetic license ? or is my memory(which is notoriously faulty)even more faulty than i thought? i don't remember the football field/gravel track not always being there. granted, it was 46-47 years ago. i do remember watching a baseball game or two on the baseball field on the football field when louis played.

Karen said...

Connor really loved this one, esp. the sliding into potato sacks!! He said, "Boy mom, that must have really hurt!" You really have a way with words, keep up the good work, I enjoy reading them on a daily basis! Love, Karen :)

Charlie Holt said...

Dorothy has a good point, the football field must have been there. Where else would the marching band practice. I made some edits, but if other readers can refresh this old memory, please help. I should also mention that the 1962 football team that won no games, blossomed into an undefeated team in 1965.

themissingwiseman said...

Ah, the memories come pouring back, growing up in Yonkers we played a game a bit more primitive requiring a mere two items, yes thats right, a stick and a ball. We too played with the pink sphere called Spaldeen and the luck guy who could afford one would call "chips" on the ball, no potatoe chips if it was lost. Our field consisted of a city street with a fair ball being to the right of the fire hydrant just pass third base, which was painted on the street. A home run was off the wall of the row house in left or in the lot enclosed by a chain link fence with barb wire a top it. Oh, the good old days.

If you were too young to play with your olderr brother and his friends you werre assigned to surreptitous ball retrieval in the lot before the cranky old lady yelled to get out and go home. Once in a while a "brave" soul would attempt to slide into the 1st base bag painted just past the rear fender of the Chevy Belair. The porches on the front of the houses provided satidum seating for the residences whose cheers were a bit confusing... " Go home you'l break a window"... " YOur an altar boy you know better than this ."

When we ony had two guys to play we would play wiffle ball with the same stick but a wiffle golf ball. Tough to hit but when you did it would go over the roof of the three story six family apartment building.

And oh yeah when you wanted someone to come out to play you didn't call, e-mail or text them you yelled from the street or knocked on the door.

The good old days full of life and without any need for batteries.