Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Field of Dreams or just Day Dreams

Not much of a story… to most. We all know where most of the boundaries lie. We have all kinds of signs What is the speed limit? I dunno. Well look for a sign, Duffus. We all know they are there. It gives some sort of comfort to know they are there. Sometimes you have to LOOK. How did you learn what that road sign meant. Somebody probably told you. Others have to experiment and learn about the wonders of technology. Radar. Still in a way that is a sign. This posted photo is a sign. Now that you have glanced back at the pic and have asked yourself, “ Has he lost his ever loving mind”?

Nope, Yep, well I dunno, but here’s how it goes.

Back before color television and video games and every kind of sport imaginable, there was “little league” boy’s baseball. I know, I know all you weemen liber’s ( I got three daughters, remember?), ya’ll are going to say “We didn’t get to play baseball back then”. Well, that is a different story and different day.

The season was short, not like today, where the extra games, play-offs and such, go nearly all summer long. You got at it and got it over with, but in those few short seasons, each learned about guidelines. Rules- Rules- Rules. Why so many rules? I dunno. To keep honor and chaos in its rightful spot, I suppose, and at times it did.

You learned that the “Dads” were engineers, coaches, councilors, medics, and on and on. The field had been neglected for years. A Dad with a host of other Dads cleared brush and mowed until you could see where the old field was. Chicken wire was restrung on the back stop. I don’t know who paid for the chicken wire but I can tell you it was from the community.

Everyone’s Dad worked. Coaching time was after that. Part of the “coaching” was that if the coach was late or couldn’t make it, you practiced anyway, on your own. The Dads umpired. You didn’t give your Dad or anyone’s Dad any lip. You did not want to be “out” the second time. There was amble transportation. Yep; Moms and Dads. Somebody’s parent had to leave early. Yep, hitch a ride with somebody’s Mom or Dad. Maybe even eat supper with them. Do you see a pattern here?

Socialization. That term has just about worn me out. Play baseball for a season with these mentioned guidelines and you will get plenty of socialization. Who bats first? Who bats fourth? What is the difference? I know. Do you? Everybody gets to bat. You barely had enough to field the team anyway; wealthy, poor, and in between. “It’ll all even out in the end”; ( title of a great song a friend of mine wrote, different story and different day). You showed up every time. Practice or game, you were there because the others couldn’t play if you were not there to be part of the team.

I could go on and on, and probably will with a lot of stories about the “players” that I encountered on this field of dreams. Yep; quite a few of them too. About the PHOTO? Oh, like the story, not much. If you can use your imagination, you are looking from the home run fence back down the right field fence line. If you LOOK veeerrry closely, you will see HOME.  Yep, and a sign of the past.


  1. How cool is that. I loved this glance back at the way it was, and probably still should be. We like to think we have "advanced" as a civilization, but in so many ways we have advanced beyond anything advantageous. Weemen Libers? LOL. The Sandlot is one of my all time favorite movies :)

  2. My oldest son coaches my grandson's soccer, lacrosse, and basketball teams. The grandson played little league the first two years and decided it wasn't for him. Not enough movement and action for a live wire like him, I guess.

  3. glenn, not only is this a wonderful read, it is important. what we have let go of in way of structure, in way of honour and responsibility, has allowed into our society, into our families, huge fractures, not just the obvious ones but fractures in character and spirit. watching a bit of tv last night, something i seem to do time to time when i miss my children and the noise in the house (they are with their dad right now - one of those obvious fractures) there was a commercial about america's nanny. i stared slack jawed wondering what, exactly what have we done to undo honour and responsibility. yup, you pretty much remind me here.

    we're moving to another small town but soon, in america. the real estate agent told me baseball's big among the kids from the farms. we'll live out that way, i hope. looks good, eh?


  4. Oh how I miss that sense of community, that spirit of teaching our children to be team players, that joy of winning that grace of losing with good sportsmanship. Sigh...

  5. Wow Burt...Ya stirred up country memories in this ole fat boy that had long been dormant....of good times long ago...THANKS~!