For the Love of Baseball

I bring to you the good news it is once more spring. For all those in the know, it means baseball season is here again and all is right with the world for at least six more months!

In the small towns of the South, Dixie League Youth Baseball has begun. Parents and offspring rush to the athletic department of every available store looking for the newest fashion trends in attire and gear, giving little thought to the ever increasing prices. It is, perhaps, the hope that a new catcher's mitt will produce the next Johnny Bench, a new bat another Mickey Mantle, or an infielder's glove the new Derek Jeter. The dream leading them to ignore that little Billy hasn't caught a ball or had a hit in three years! Baseball does that to people who truly believe it is still America's sport.

At the park parent's cheer for their up and coming stars, even as the ball rolls through the legs of the second baseman and center fielder, only stopping because it finds the fence. The return trip for the ball is a mix of wild throws and dropped catches but the opposing team has an in the park homerun to their credit, no matter what the official score book reads. If you doubt my word, just ask Dad! For three months the park is full every night. The nachos and snowcones flow and every child is a hero and the season marches on.

When the "regular season", as the locals refer to it, ends the All-Stars are chosen. With great fanfare names are called of the brightest beacons who will represent the town during state competition. There is great excitement for those and broken dreams for they who were bypassed on this all important day. On this day sportsmanship is alive and well as disappointment is overridden by congratulations and hands are shaken and backs patted.

The journey begins for the chosen few with an intense round of practice where individuals will be welded into a new team. The fist stop is regional competition. From there the best melded team moves forward to the state tournament where the season ends for most of these elite young men and women. One, however, becomes the best of the best and that team progresses to a town like Hattiesburgh, Mississippi for the World Series.

The host town opens its arms to thirteen teams who have played the hardest and dreamed the impossible dream. There is an atmosphere of excitement that knows no limits the first time these kids take the field. Each game becomes more important than the last and every play critical. Every night sees a dream coming closer to a reality while another dies. There is laughter and there are tears amid the lesson of life that there is a loss for every victory. The ride continues for five glorious days and nights as television cameras record the magic and the misery of these young people. For the true baseball fan the triumph and agony is experienced with each child on every pitch, every hit, every play. Each viewer has a personal favorite, but there is a love only a fan can claim for every player on every team, which culminates after the final out, in the center of a ballfield, as the winning team accepts their trophy, their medals, and the title of world champion. It is a title no less important to that youthful team than the one the professionals strive to attain season after season. It is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and sometimes the closest thing to perfection some of these spectacular youngsters will ever come. It is their moment to shine, a memory to be boasted about for the remainder of their days, a once in a lifetime thing where they know they were a part of the best of the best. All good things come to an end though, and the season is truly over.

All too soon the season is gone. Everyone's attention turns to the "Boys of Summer", night after night with the flying catches and grand slams they dreamed of as a child. Then it's World Series time and before you know it, it's just another memory.

Back in the small Southern town the ballpark is silent, the neatly mown grass is no more, the base paths long abandoned. Oh, but wait! A small hand reaches into the wrist high green, retrieving that lost ball. A smile spreads across a dirt smudged face and a true treasure has been found by a future Hall of Famer. As he tucks the ball into his pocket he dreams of his future glory and hears his name called over the loud speaker, because he knows baseball will always be America's sport and he is an American, after all.