BEFORE THERE WERE WOMEN…

There is baseball.

As I took my daily stroll one night, two young boys about 7 or 8 were on a lawn, in their Little League baseball uniforms, tossing the ball to each other. Another love affair had started and it took me back to my youth, and my sons.



The uniforms looked fresh on the kids, and the look of pure concentration was etched deeply into the smooth young faces that wore the uniform. From their looks, I knew it was a ‘warm-up’ before they were off to play a game, maybe their first game of the season.

I recall the excitement myself, with my blue Bellport Bank uniform, Mom having it clean and ready for me, playing catch to warm-up before we were off to the cemetery grounds on Station Road to play ball. I had made the ‘Majors’ for the Bellport Little League, not the farm team, a great source of pride. Not only that, I was the starting second baseman, due mainly to my aggressiveness and fearless approach to a grounder, no matter how hard it was hit toward me.



Then there was #1 Son, I’ll call Anthony, who had the same game face the little leaguers wore. His mouth and lips pinched together as he raised his foot to toss the ball. The ball field was a hallowed sacred grounds: for ‘Anthony,’ mimicking the big-leaguers from TV, the toss, the catch, his idol in his minds eye, being reenacted through the beauty of what is Little League.

Ah baseball, she was every little boy’s love affair, the freshly chalked foul lines, the smell of leather that pervaded the field, the coach with his ball cap on and his clipboard in his hand, all of us eager to take the field and play our hearts out.

The games came usually at twilight, and lasted only 6 innings; enough to witness the gloom of evening once the last out was made. The anticipation of ice cream, and some poor dad’s windshield needing to go to the auto pane shop for a repair from a fouled ball that inevitably found his windshield!

And the next day, oh the next day! Reliving the 2 or 3 at-bats, the chances in the field, the batting average for the day, all cemented in memory that would live on.

I am grateful to those that took the time to organize the Little Leagues, the football and basketball team leagues; they gave my sons a sense of purpose, of belonging and healthy safe things to do. The organizers need more credit issued to them in the sense that we recognize what they really mean to children, especially young and impressionable boys.