Tools of Ignorance

I rode the bench.  When I wasn’t in right field, that is.  One of the perks of riding the pine is that you get to score a lot of baseball games.  I studied the arcane rules laid down by Henry Chadwick in the 1870s.  Thus was born my love of sports statistics and the reading of box scores.

One of the peculiar rulings is that the credit for the put out for a strike out is awarded to the catcher (the person who caught the out).  I had an epiphany and decided to become a catcher.  Kids idolize their sports heroes and I found mine in Thurman Munson, The Yankees’ catcher and captain.  (The previous captain was Lou Gehrig who retired in 1939).  I would stay up late scoring the games.  I couldn't care less what 2/3 multiplied by 3/4 was, but I kept a daily tally of Munson’s batting average.  While watching games on TV I would squat as I emulated his style.

It was a very sad day on August 3rd 1979 when I read that Munson had died when the Cessna Citation I/SP jet he was flying crashed the previous day.  I was on a bike tour through Maine on Route 9 near Kennebunkport when I saw the newspaper headline.  The death of a childhood hero is a life shaking event for a fifteen year old.  (The Yankees would not select another captain for three years).

I continued to play catcher until my freshman year in high school when I was cut from the team.  My eyesight and reaction time had not kept pace with the pitchers' skills so I couldn’t hit a curve ball, or a fastball, or any other kind of ball.  I don’t remember the exact words the coach said to me, but he left me with a great love for the game.  He told me to focus on sports that took advantage of the talents I had, my height and relative light weight.  I concentrated on swimming and the world of endurance athletics. 

All of these memories came back to me this Christmas when my father sent me the New York Yankees 1979 Picture Album.  There is a photo of Thurman and one of Yogi Berra, the great catcher from the previous generation.  Yogi was one of the Yankees’ coaches and my house was about 200 yards from his. 

Watching a complete baseball game is a luxury I get to enjoy about once a year.  A baseball game lasts approximately three hours, or roughly how long it takes the members of our little group to run a marathon.  Coincidence?

Thoughts of spring filled my head as I ran along the Highline Canal path Saturday afternoon.  The trail was a ribbon of white with an inch dusting of powdery snow.  The temperature on Saturday afternoon was 13 degrees.  It was a great day to break in my new running shoes – New Balance MT110s, size 13 EE.  I passed two runners. 

When I think of spring, I think of budding trees, I think about baseball and I think about spring marathons.  I registered for the Colfax Marathon.  So, whatever else I’ll be doing on May 19^th, I’ll be running 26.2 miles up and down those long hills on Colfax Avenue.