The Teachings of Mr. Ed
The other day, Minako asked me how I did in my last game. I play in a recreational slo-pitch league (aka a beer league, so named because over half the guys drink beer throughout the game).
I said ok, but there were things I wish I could have done better or differently. I swung at too many first pitches, wasn’t patient enough at the plate, let my hands get ahead of my hips, and as a result, grounded out weakly in most of my at bats.
I’m hard on myself. I’ve always been hard on myself.
Mr. Ed saw that and decided to help me out. Not by telling me to enjoy that game, but by teaching me how to play.
Every summer, my family went to a Pentecostal Camp in Debert. It was two weeks long, and often my parents did not stay the entire time, but I did (at least until I got a job) and so did my brother. Aside from the possibility of making out with some girls we’d never met before (which he did far more than I, for which I was extremely jealous) the highlight of camp was ball.
Every afternoon (except Sunday, because sports was apparently too much like work, and we shouldn’t work on Sundays) we went down to the ball field, picked teams, and played until it was suppertime. Nobody kept score. There were often more than the required 10 players. But it was still fun.
Mr. Ed was a regular at camp and at the ballfield. He was older, probably in his forties or fifties, but he still managed to keep up with everybody. He saw me being hard on myself, and gave me advice.
-When you hit a ground ball, don’t watch it, run for all your worth. It slows you down when you watch it. And don’t give up if you think you’re out. Major League players throw balls away all the time, how much more than will amateur church camp players?
-Pay attention to where players hit when they are up. Most players have a favourite place they tend to hit the ball too, and if you can adjust, you may have a better chance at getting to the ball quicker.
-When Playing the outfield, play back a step or two farther than you think you need to be. It’s easier to run in on a ball than back.
-When you are hitting, never swing at the first pitch unless you are absolutely positive you can hit it hard where you want to hit it. The pitcher is just as likely to throw a strike as a ball, and if you get a ball, you get some more breathing room. If you are impatient and swing at a pitch you can’t handle, you will likely ground out on a weak dribbler to the pitcher. If the pitcher isn’t throwing strikes, take the walk. A walk is as good as a hit.
-Don’t try to smash a ball over everybody’s head every time you are up. You will pop out more often than you accomplish that feat. Instead, try to hit a grounder or a line drive out of the infield. Those are the kind of hits that will get you on base more often.
-Don’t give up. Not on a pitch, not on an at bat, not on a ball that goes through your legs, not on a ball that goes over your head. Keep going, hard, and it might just turn out your way, especially if the other guy thinks you are going to give up.
Lots of people didn’t listen to Mr. Ed when he doled out his advice. They looked at his dentures, his pastel tank tops and his thick wooden bat and decided that his advice was irrelevant. I listened, and learned that baseball isn’t just a game of athletic ability (although I wish I had a little more than that). It’s a game of patience, awareness, perseverance and, maybe, luck.
I said ok, but there were things I wish I could have done better or differently. I swung at too many first pitches, wasn’t patient enough at the plate, let my hands get ahead of my hips, and as a result, grounded out weakly in most of my at bats.
I’m hard on myself. I’ve always been hard on myself.
Mr. Ed saw that and decided to help me out. Not by telling me to enjoy that game, but by teaching me how to play.
Every summer, my family went to a Pentecostal Camp in Debert. It was two weeks long, and often my parents did not stay the entire time, but I did (at least until I got a job) and so did my brother. Aside from the possibility of making out with some girls we’d never met before (which he did far more than I, for which I was extremely jealous) the highlight of camp was ball.
Every afternoon (except Sunday, because sports was apparently too much like work, and we shouldn’t work on Sundays) we went down to the ball field, picked teams, and played until it was suppertime. Nobody kept score. There were often more than the required 10 players. But it was still fun.
Mr. Ed was a regular at camp and at the ballfield. He was older, probably in his forties or fifties, but he still managed to keep up with everybody. He saw me being hard on myself, and gave me advice.
-When you hit a ground ball, don’t watch it, run for all your worth. It slows you down when you watch it. And don’t give up if you think you’re out. Major League players throw balls away all the time, how much more than will amateur church camp players?
-Pay attention to where players hit when they are up. Most players have a favourite place they tend to hit the ball too, and if you can adjust, you may have a better chance at getting to the ball quicker.
-When Playing the outfield, play back a step or two farther than you think you need to be. It’s easier to run in on a ball than back.
-When you are hitting, never swing at the first pitch unless you are absolutely positive you can hit it hard where you want to hit it. The pitcher is just as likely to throw a strike as a ball, and if you get a ball, you get some more breathing room. If you are impatient and swing at a pitch you can’t handle, you will likely ground out on a weak dribbler to the pitcher. If the pitcher isn’t throwing strikes, take the walk. A walk is as good as a hit.
-Don’t try to smash a ball over everybody’s head every time you are up. You will pop out more often than you accomplish that feat. Instead, try to hit a grounder or a line drive out of the infield. Those are the kind of hits that will get you on base more often.
-Don’t give up. Not on a pitch, not on an at bat, not on a ball that goes through your legs, not on a ball that goes over your head. Keep going, hard, and it might just turn out your way, especially if the other guy thinks you are going to give up.
Lots of people didn’t listen to Mr. Ed when he doled out his advice. They looked at his dentures, his pastel tank tops and his thick wooden bat and decided that his advice was irrelevant. I listened, and learned that baseball isn’t just a game of athletic ability (although I wish I had a little more than that). It’s a game of patience, awareness, perseverance and, maybe, luck.
1 Comments:
I wonder if Ed or anybody still plays at camp. we're going to go next summer i think... even if just for a few days... although i will admit it won't be the same without trying to find a girl to make out with ;) i don't think my wife would like that
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