The Old Ball Game

Yesterday afternoon, sunshine and restlessness summoned me and Andrew to Waco’s Cameron Park for a couple hours. There was swinging and sliding, running and roughhousing, all the typical joys of a day at the park. But when the time came for a water break, we got a treat that is sticking with me on this Opening Day of baseball season.

On a grassy field near the playground, seven kids—six boys and one girl; five white, one black, and one Latino, all 10 years old or so—were playing an old-fashioned pickup baseball game.

Home plate was an oak tree, first base the duffle bag they’d brought their gloves in. Second was, as best I can tell, invisible and understood, and third was an empty water bottle. Everyone shared the same aluminum bat, and they rotated through three balls, which they had to constantly chase afterwards since there weren’t enough fielders to waste one on a catcher. No one wore batting gloves, but they all shared the same purple batting helmet, which fit snugly for some and was a couple sizes too big for others.

The kids’ moms sat at a picnic table a hundred yards away, chatting together and glancing over only occasionally. A black Labrador that belonged to the pitcher alternated between sitting in the shade of the oak tree and chasing foul balls.

The second baseman/shortstop/center fielder chanted before every pitch, “Pitcher’s got a big butt; pitcher’s got a big butt,” loud enough to draw laughs from his teammates but restrained enough that his mom wouldn’t hear him from the picnic table. The runner on first replied with words of encouragement for his hurler: “C’mon, throw him the high heat!”

The pitcher wound up with a high leg kick like Nolan Ryan, the batter swung with all his might like Babe Ruth. And when by some miracle bat met ball, the grassy field was a flurry of activity, with the first baseman leaving his post to chase down the ball, the runner on second racing around third, and the pitcher headed home to tag the runner out in the unlikely event his first baseman/rightfielder got the ball to her in time.

And then a few minutes later, when the pitcher’s mom told them that she (and the bat) needed to pick little brother up from soccer practice, the game abruptly ended, with the remaining six kids racing to the playground for whatever time was left. I don’t know who won or lost, but it didn’t seem to matter much to them as they took turns on the monkey bars.

It’s Opening Day for the 2019 baseball season—Max Scherzer squares off against Jacob DeGrom in D.C., the Red Sox start their title defense in Seattle, and Mike Trout, Manny Machado, and Bryce Harper look to justify their massive new contracts with some fireworks. And of course, in Arlington, the Rangers begin their goodbye to the red brick temple that they’ve called home for 25 years.

I’m sure there will be some great games today and throughout the season. But it’s hard to imagine a better, purer, more joyful game than the one I saw yesterday: just kids playing the old ball game.

Happy Opening Day, everybody. Play ball!