MAKING THE TEAM

Watching my nephew Matt play his first college game got me thinking about mine. They're actually quite similar. He pitched 2 innings of relief in the late innings of a game hopelessly lost. I pitched 2 innings of relief at the end of a contest we'd already lost. He hit a batter. I was supposed to hit a batter. He gave up a run. I gave up a, well, actually, I didn't give up a run. Sorry, Matt. And there were other differences....

Matt was a highly recruited high school star with a sizzling fastball that tops out in the mid to upper 80s. The Quinipiac Baseball Program really wanted him and is very glad they have him. I didn't play high school ball, probably never threw anything that even approached 80 miles per hour. And I don't think the Stony Brook Baseball Program in 1967 really wanted me.

That didn't stop me, of course, from trying out. I was a pitcher/outfielder and, throwing on the side 1 day I was having trouble with my control. I saw the coach coming over and managed to get a pitch over the plate. Pleased, I looked up and listened to the first words the coach ever said to me: "Right down home run ally, little man." Hmmm. This didn't sound good.

It got worse a few days later when the guys were divided up for an intersquad game...18 players making up 2 teams. My position? Coaching first base! Apparently I was the 19th guy. Didn't cheer me up when the coach later complimented me: "Nice chatter."

As opening day approached 2 players quit and 17 remained. By a stroke of good luck, Stony Brook had 17 baseball uniforms. So 17 and 17. I'm convinced that this is why I made the team.

Certainly the coach had no intentions of playing me and so I sat on the bench. In my long life up to that point I'd never, ever sat on a bench. I hated it. And our team was pretty bad. We lost game after game often by big margins and often with stupid plays. I honestly didn't know if I could hit college pitching or get college hitters out. But I did know that I wouldn't do the awful things I saw happening in front of me.

About half way into the season we entered the 9th inning astonishingly only behind by 1 run. We got a runner on and the coach, who was at least aware that I could run fast, put me in to pinch run. My first college action of any kind! With 2 outs I arrived at third. I hollered at the batter, our team captain, to get a hit and bring me in. He looked up at me in surprise. "What are you doing there?" he asked, obviously finding it hard to believe I was on the field. Damn! He popped up to end the game.

Pinch running doesn't count as real action, but that came the next day when, as usual, we were behind by about 9 runs in the 8th and the coach put me in. The first batter I faced was a lefty who'd given us trouble all day. Coach said to me, "throw at him." A knock down pitch was going to be my big debut! As I came out of my windup and released the pitch our coach yelled from the bench "look out" to warn the batter. He needn't have. My pitch came in low and outside. This irritated our catcher who was likely already pissed by the parade of runners who'd crossed home right in front of him. He jumped up from behind the plate and came storming out to the mound. "Don't you have any guts," he yelled at me. You know, fuck these people, they were really messing up my debut. "Yeah, I've got guts," I told him. "But I don't have much control."

The batter was so screwed up by all this that he was absolutely bailing on my next pitch which I managed to get over the plate. With his body practically heading for our bench he flicked a weak little pop to short...I'd retired my first college batter! And I got 5 more and they didn't score a run.

Afterwards the coach told the team he was impressed by my pitching. Apparently he didn't notice that my knock down pitch had not gone as planned. But I don't think he really was impressed because I never pitched another inning for Stony Brook.

Our left fielder, who, like most everyone, was having a horrible year, failed to slide at home on a close play and was tagged out at the start of our next contest. The third base coach yelled at him. Our coach REALLY lit into him and our left fielder screamed back, called the coach a loser, stripped off his shirt, threw it down right there and quit the team.

And that's how I became a starting outfielder for the Stony Brook Patriots. And let me tell you about the game I consider my REAL first game. I lead off. I got on base all 5 times I batted...a couple of hits, a walk, an error and hit by a pitch that just nicked my shirt. I recall turning to the umpire and screaming "the ball hit me, ump. Right here." "I know, I know," he answered. "You don't have to yell at me." I couldn't help it, though, I was pretty excited to finally be getting on base!

At season's end I was voted the teams most improved player. I felt really good to get that award. Because at the beginning of the season they pretty much thought I wasn't good enough to play for a pretty awful team.