Between the Lines: A Father, A Son, and America's Pastime

Wait a minute – April 23 is moving day! After a lifetime on Evansville’s west side, we’re moving to Newburgh, a small town just east of Evansville.

That morning, my brain quick-pitches questions: “Where’s Sam’s hat?” “Are we packed for the move?” “Wow, my son’s first game…will my moving helpers show up?” “Where’s my hat?” “Did we remember to have the utilities switched?” “Do I have all the baseball equipment?” “Why…why…did I put regular gasoline in a diesel U-Haul?”

Sam takes left field. His defensive stance is perfect. I only make one small coaching adjustment: “Sam, face this way.” Our pitcher, Grace, proceeds to gobble up everything that is hit forward − and some that are not. She makes about seven throwouts to first base in the first inning. Still, we’re in the customary 12-run hole. I’m confident we can make a comeback.

Yet, my mind returns to "is there any way we’ll get everything moved today?"

To make life a bit simpler, we bat in the order of the players’ numbers. Sam wanted the shirt with the line and the circle, so he bats 10th. Our leadoff hitter, Kelsey, smacks a ground ball and runs to the correct base…a proud moment for any coach. Amazing Grace comes up a little later and clears the bases. During the next few batters, I can’t keep my mind from trying to figure out how much repairs would be to that U-Haul I’d filled up with the wrong fuel.

I look to the dugout. Sam is coming to the plate. He struts to the batter’s box and steps in. He spreads his feet, lifts his bat and puts on his mean face. He’s ready. I load the ball on the tee. He looks up at me for direction. I stand there and watch him. Sam, my son and now my left fielder, is about to hit for the first time in a “real” game. I can’t bring myself to tell him to swing because once he does, his first-ever at-bat will be over.

Finally, I give him the go ahead and he hits a line drive toward the gap between first and second. About eight fielders are gathered there. “Please get through, please get through,” I say to myself. It does and Sam gets to stay on first...legitimately.

Jack, our 12th batter, eventually steps in. He taps one that rolls up the middle. Since he is the final batter we let him just keep running the bases until he scores or gets tagged out. Sam is on second base. He stops and watches to ball trickle past him before leaving second, so by the time he reaches home, the 11th and 12th batters are right on his heels. But rather than take any chances, he slides. He comes to a complete stop three feet from the plate. The ump shouts, “Safe!” Just to be sure, he sits up and rolls forward, lands on his belly and slaps the plate with his hand. A perfect head-first slide.

Through the cloud of dust I can see Sam smiling. Then I and see Ben and Jack barreling toward home. “Sam, get up. There are runners behind you!”

Satisfied that he was safe and sufficiently covered with dirt, he stands up. We high five and he exclaims, “I did it, daddy!” So he not only got the best hit, but the biggest laugh of the inning as well. After one inning, the score is tied, 12-12.

Sam collected two more line drive hits. In the field, Coach Tim makes him aware that a ground ball is heading his way. He shows a lot of hustle chasing it down in the outfield, only to get trampled by Nicholas in deep center just before he reached it. “Nicholas, great play and I love your hustle, but you’re the third baseman,” I say. Sam suffered only minor psychosomatic injuries to his knee.

The game ends in a 36-36 tie. Sam and I pack our stuff and leave the field. Once outside the fence, more important things call him…his free Double Cola, candy and the teeter totter. Cathy says to me, “You ready to start moving?”

That’s right, we're moving. For a moment, I had forgotten.

That evening, in our new house, Sam sits on the floor next to me with his uniform still on − hat, cleats and all. He’s exhausted after playing three full innings of baseball and "helping the big strong worker guys do the work" as he puts it. I look over to see if he’s sleeping. He notices me, returns my glance and says, “It sure was a great day, daddy.”

It sure was, Sam. It sure was.