Thoughts of Spring - Baseball

Now that the temperatures are getting warmer my mind turns to thoughts of Spring. Perhaps it is a bit premature since we are still in the midst of winter (an arctic blast could suddenly descend upon us at anytime), but I can't help anticipating the thaw and the reawakening of the trees and flowers and the flocks of hundreds of Canada Geese migrating over our apartment. This time of year also stirs memories within me, breaking forth from my mind like the flow of rapidly melting ice. The sights, sounds, and smells of the thaw trigger thoughts and images in my mind from years past.

For whatever reason today I've been thinking about baseball. When I was a kid I LOVED baseball and I couldn't wait to get out and play. As soon as the snow had melted enough - to a point where I could walk in our backyard without plunging into knee-deep drifts - I would be outside with bat in hand winging fly balls over our rooftop. It usually started with Spring Training when players traveled to warmer climes and began their month-long workout to peak performance and the beginning of the season. I would anxiously await the arrival of this time of year and ready myself.

Growing up in Minnesota meant that my Spring Training occurred as I was dodging blizzards and wading through ankle deep puddles of slush that covered the backyard through most of the month of March. I remember what it felt like to smack a fly ball with frozen hands gripping the bat - how it stung and left my hands feeling numb and lifeless - or how cold my legs and feet got as I ran through the dirty, slushy ponds in our backyard. There was even one year when I played baseball for a little league team (the Waite Park Cubs in Northeast Minneapolis) and we played a game in May in the middle of a snowfall.

I must admit, most of my games were played in our backyard or at the local park. I've never been much of a "joiner" when it comes to sports and I like to have things on my own terms. I guess that's why, when we moved from Minneapolis to Apple Valley in 1991, I decided to build my own baseball diamond in our backyard (see image above - it's a scaled down version of a softball field - perfect for wiffle ball). Note to all parents: this is what can happen when your son or daughter is home alone in the summer. Luckily for me the sod, for which my parents paid handsomely, ended before third base and I just ended up plowing under a bunch of weeds (note the different shades of green) in the photo.

I used the field for several years until I eventually lost interest in playing (thank you 1994-95 MLB players' strike) but for a few magical summers I imagined myself playing in the major leagues on my little ballfield.