Where Is He?

Where is he? He was there to turn the lights on when you arrived and was the last one out to turn them off.  He picked up your towels and packed your bags and equipment.  He kept your scores and totaled your stats and then called them in to the Dailys but where is he? If it wasn't for him Tournaments would not have been held and games not played. Do you know where he is?  He bled red but also white in the land of eagles. He was a native son. Have you seen him? Were you ever there when he wasn't? Was there a place he didn't know or a question he couldn't answer? He acted gruff and tough at times but you knew he really cared didn't you? I was with him for twenty years but never knew where he lived. I can't recall anybody else who knew either. Whenever I called I only got a machine but somehow he would get in contact. A man of mystery I guess. I wonder where he is? I retired from Eagleland five years ago and saw him sporadically. I heard he left in a dispute. Where is he now? A man who wanted only to serve the school named for corn and those who participated in it's activities. Shouldn't we have been more concerned? Maybe he is doing the same for others though I can't imagine.  Where is he; do you know?

Things That Don't Work

Oh the frustration of not being a handyman. Never having the right tools for the job and not knowing what to do with them if you had them. They say you get what you pay for. I am still learning the lesson. My front yard resembles Yellowstone National Park with all the geysers I have in the summer due to a faulty sprinkler system that was installed several years ago. The lighting system I bought with a photo sensor for light and dark must have pink eye because it never wants to turn off. Why are some of us born with the ability to fix things and some born with two left thumbs? My answer to that question is patience. Something of which I lack. I do realize my shortcoming in the handyman category though. When something is broke the yellow pages come out and a part of  our economy is a little bit better off.

Baseball

"Throw a slider Albert". Those are the first words I can remember uttering about baseball. Imploring my Uncle circa 1955 to throw a certain pitch to me when I was 4 years old. I have no idea where I acquired the knowledge to name this breaking ball at such a young age. Baseball was my first love in sports and remained so for many years. Somehow I have drifted away from the game and find the need to re-acquaint myself as I get ready to enter the sixth decade of my life. What drew me to baseball in the first place? I think it was the sport in the 1950's that every kid played and the two biggest stars in America to me were baseball players, Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays. In the 50's, especially in the summer, kids were outside from sun-up to sundown. The way most of us passed our time was to play some form of baseball. I remember how it felt to be on a team at a young age and the excitement on the day of a game. I would constantly check the skies on game day searching for thunderheads that might cause a rain out and even take naps to ensure I would be rested at game time.  Youth baseball was a social event for parents. My 87 year old father says it was one of the happiest times of his life and still has lasting friendships to this day from spending nights with other adults watching their children at play. I continued playing Baseball through High School and College and as I got older I began to love the nuances of the game. I can still recall looking up at the sky while walking out to a practice in college and saying to myself how much I loved this game and that there was nowhere else I'd rather be. I still have vivid dreams of hearing the crack of a wooden bat as the sound echoes off of an empty stadium during a pre-game batting practice. I last participated in organized baseball in 1974, at the age of twenty three, playing in a local semi-pro league. As I began a career in education and moved from one small town to another the opportunity to play baseball diminished. I still had a passion for the sport because of the Kansas City Royals and one George Brett.  As long as the Royals were good and George was excelling I was an avid baseball fan. My competitive activities had switched to slow pitch softball. George Brett retired in the early nineties and the Royals began to flounder.  With the demise in KC my interest in Baseball began to wane. I still loved the sport and coached my sons in little league but the passion I once felt in playing or following a favorite team was not there. Recently, I find myself beginning to watch more baseball and I am even familiarizing myself with the Royals again even though they struggle to win on a consistent basis. Maybe it's like finding an old lost friend you haven't seen in years and re-discovering all the things you liked about them initially. I hope it is that way about baseball. Time will tell.