No game in the world is as tidy and dramatically neat as baseball, with cause and effect, crime and punishment, motive and result, so cleanly defined.
–Paul Gallico, Farewell to Sport
It’s that time of the year.
Catchers and pitchers are reporting to spring training. Baseball is in the air. Is there any better time of the year?
Baseball has always held a special place for me. Oh, I was no more than an average player at best– decent bat, lousy arm and a so-so glove– but there was pure magic in seeing the heroes of my youth and hearing the stories of the early legends of the game.
I remember my grandmother telling me of going with my grandfather to New York City on their honeymoon in 1921 and seeing Babe Ruth play with the Yankees. Ruth hit a double and a triple as she recalled.
I remember sitting with my grandfather, the mythological Shank, so called for the holds he would apply to his opponent’s legs during his time as a professional wrestler, watching the World Series in the afternoons of 1968. I had my tonsils out and was still recuperating and we watched the St. Louis Cardinals play the Detroit Tigers, who won the series. It was great watching with my grandfather plus I was introduced a player who became one of the heroes of my youth, Bob Gibson, the Cardinal’s pitching ace.
Gibby was it for me. I have always admired toughness in people and Gibby was the toughest guy out there, one whose competitive fire was, and is, legendary. [Bob Gibson died in 2020 at age 85]
He was so dominating as a pitcher that baseball changed the mound height because they felt the hitters needed help since he was practically unhittable. I read his early autobiography, From Ghetto to Glory, numerous times as a kid and that made him an even bigger hero to me. He was eloquent and college-educated, a rarity for ballplayers of that era, and his story was compelling, going from abject poverty onto college then a stint with the Harlem Globetrotters then on to baseball stardom.
If I am asked to name a childhood hero, his name always jumps into my mind first.
Baseball was always played at our house. My dad was a pretty fair pitcher who had promise as a youth. In subsequent years, I have uncovered numerous news stories in old newspapers about his exploits on the mound and in the field. But later, as a dad, he would occasionally play catch with me and my friends. Eventually, he would break out his knuckleball, a pitch he was known for in his younger days. It was practically uncatchable, having a spectacular drop that would appear to be entering your glove only to end up hitting you in the stomach. Or lower. I was never able to master the pitch but still appreciate the awkward grace and dance of a well thrown knuckler.
Other times, I would pitch to him and he would hit flies to my brother, Charlie, in the outfield who seemed to run down most anything hit out there. Periodically, he would hit line drives or hard grounders back at me. They would bang off me or make me dive out of the way and he would cackle. I would then try to drill him with the next pitch, which would make him laugh even more because he had gotten my goat.
I would calm myself and wait until he would pitch to me, waiting for the perfect pitch when I could send a hard line drive back at him, making him duck or dive. At such times, after having to jump out of the way or defend himself with his glove, he would yell out a Hey! and give me a harsh look. Then he would usually laugh because he knew that I was just paying him back for his earlier actions.
Payback was and is just part of the game. Baseball has its own karma.
Even my work has been somewhat affected by my experiences with the game. I remember the first time coming out of tunnel during a night game at Shea Stadium in the late 1960’s and seeing the field spread out before me. I was stunned by the colors that were so rich and lush under the warmth of the lights. It was a feeling that I think I wanted to replicate in some manner which ultimately led me to art. These memories of the game are most likely the reason that my baseball paintings remain some of my favorites to paint.
Over the years baseball has become my calendar for the passing of the year and is a comforting friend on the days when the world seems ready to implode or explode. I am energized with the beginning of Spring Training and am still captive to the statistics and stories of baseball, one of those romantics who see poetry in a game based in tradition.
I wrote this back in 2009 and have edited it just a bit and added a couple of things. The wonderful vintage baseball glove at the top painted with Take Me Out to the Ballgame is from artist Sean Kane who specializes in baseball related art such as these painted gloves. I featured a group of them here a few years back. I urge you to take a look at his website, especially the Archives section. Good stuff.
Now here’s a fun version of the classic Take Me Out to the Ballgame from Dr. John. Play ball!
Redtree Times 
Now I have to ask: what do you think about the new pitch clock? I’m of a divided mind, but I do suspect it will be modified in coming months.
I wasn’t sure I would like it but have watched a couple of games with it and have found that I like the pace it adds to the game. It requires everyone to be more attentive and on their toes. No fan or fielder wants to see many at-bats that last 8 or 9 minutes. There is also enough room within the new boundaries for both pitchers and hitters to play head games with one another. For example, a Yankee pitcher struck out a batter in less than 20 seconds, using the clock’s pace to his advantage.
I also liked the old style with its own timing and rhythm. But you have to remember that for most of its history, the typical game only lasted 2 to 2 1/2 hours. It had a quicker pace than the modern game. However, in recent years, the pace has slowed considerably with batters walking around after every pitch and some pitchers slowing the game to a snail’s pace that had their own fielders staring into their gloves from the tedium of it. This new rule actually takes the game back to the more traditional pace of the game. It seems to be popular with most players and coaches thus far. They say that 46% of current major leaguers played under these rules in the minors so I don’t think it will take much adjustment for most players. I think it’s here to stay.