Remembering A Teammate And Long-Ago Baseball Glory

Several weeks ago a lifelong friend and I were discussing our childhood days on the recreation baseball field.

With so many years having gone by since that time I asked my friend, who keeps close tabs on such things, if we had lost any member of our team, meaning if anyone had died.

Fortunately, my friend told me “no” and I was relieved to hear that. It has been decades since that time and while none of us would have passed away from old age, life is something that is never guaranteed tomorrow, next week, next month or next year.

It’s ironic we had that discussion because in recent days a former member of our team did pass away. As I write this, I am not aware of the circumstances. The obituary simply said he died after an illness.

It had been years since I saw or even communicated with my former teammate who left us too soon. It happens in life. We grow up, begin new ventures and go separate roads. (There is a scene at the end of the movie “Paper Towns,” which illustrates that scenario very well.)

This teammate was younger than I was. He began competing on the same team while I was near the end of my run in Little League baseball. His career was just starting while mine was about over.

His brother was actually closer in age to me and was also a member of that team from days gone by. In fact, his brother and I attended college together in the fall of 1990 more than two hours from our hometown. Once we discovered we both were students so far from home we would gather often in one of our dorm rooms and talk about our hometown as well as sports and those old glory days on the baseball diamond.

Even that was 30 years ago. The time on the playing field dates back even longer although admittedly it is hard to imagine that much water going under the bridge.

Sports memories are a funny thing. At times I have trouble remembering something I write notes about and things which I say repeatedly to myself not to forget. Yet the memories of playing sports always remain strong.

It’s just something about being a part of a team. The sport doesn’t matter although in this case it was recreation baseball. I still remember my final year on the team saw us coming oh so close to win the league title.

It all came down to the final game of the season. We were tied with the team we were playing for first place in the standings. Both of us had one loss. Our loss was to our opponent that day while their loss was an upset defeat against another opponent.

If we won then we would have only one loss while they had two. Of course, a winning by our rivals that season meant they had the championship trophy.

The contest was close and went down to the last out in the bottom of the last inning. It was movie-script quality. Down to their last at-bat, our opponent had the bases loaded with two outs and trailed by a run.

The batter hit a slow grounder to first base. I can still see it playing out in slow motion from my position in left field. Our first baseman fielded the baseball cleanly. All he had to do was step on the bag and the game, and championship, was ours.

I was set to throw my glove, my cap and maybe even my jersey into the air. The celebration would be on. Four years of hard work would pay off with a title.

Yet it didn’t quite work out at that. Our first baseman had a brain freeze and fired the baseball home for some reason. The throw was over our catcher’s head and our opponent scored two runs on the play.

The celebration was on but it was for the other team. I stood in left field frozen as if I was no longer on the field. I did not take that loss well. I guess I never really have been a good loser.

I’ve thought about that game a lot in recent days along with my younger teammate who left us too soon. I read about his family he leaves behind and felt bad for their pain right now.

Of course, eventually we all learn that losses on the ballfield are not life and death. They don’t come close in fact, even if at the time they seem like they are that important.

I can think about that game now without being mad. It actually taught all of us a valuable lesson even if we couldn’t realize it that day at the ballfield.

Here’s to old teammates, good friends and a carefree time in life when our biggest worry was losing a game on the recreation baseball diamond.

Monticello native Chris Bridges is a long-time newspaper columnist. He welcomes feedback from readers of The Monticello News at pchrisbridges@gmail.com.