My High School Baseball Career

It's one of my recurring dreams. The high school baseball team dream. I play shortstop or centerfield. Early in the dream nothing is expected of me but then I play well. Then it feels like "making it" is just on the cusp of happening. It's going to be the next segment of the dream. What "making it" actually is I don't know, the dream did not reveal but in the way that dreams do it felt tangible. Then it's gone and I wake up. I interpret this dream as one of longing, longing for the high school baseball career that I cut short. No regrets? I do have regrets.

This journey starts with pee-wee league tryouts. My brother Pat and I tried out at the same time, he was seven and I was six. When it got time to run onto the field I ran out then turned around and ran back to my mom in tears. After trying to convince me, she let me wait until I was seven to try out again. The signature moment of my pee-wee career came at age 10, at the pee-wee all star game. All 10 year olds made the all star game, so it was more of an all inclusion game. I started. A third basemen during the season, I started at fielding pitcher. It took all my pride not to cry again and gut out the three innings I played. Next up was midget league and the highlight was my dad, who was also the coach, letting me pitch with my left hand in a cast. By the time I got to colt leagues the bigger kids where getting bigger. I played mostly second base and was fine but never a top player.

This brings me to high school. I attended ninth grade at Parkway Junior High School having transferred in after graduating from parochial elementary school. It was quite the transformative year. First real girlfriend. First time drinking before school. First time smoking weed. I played intramural basketball and flag football and was one of the better players. When spring came I had the chance to try out for the Frosh/Soph high school baseball team. I was "feeling myself" and decided to try out for shortstop which I had not really played at any level before that. I did well in the tryouts, especially this one side by side lateral movement drill. I made the team and was the starting shortstop for our first preseason game. I made two errors in the first inning. Going into the first league game, it came down to me and another freshman and I felt I might be riding the bench. Then the other freshman, who would later become my best friend, got kneed in the thigh playing pickup basketball. Bad enough that he was out for the year. So I started at shortstop with my brother Pat as the starting second baseman. My defense was inconsistent all year - I could range well but had trouble with balls hit right at me - and I hit a light .333.  What I really needed was coaching. Someone to see when I was losing confidence defensively and drill it out of me. Someone who would coach me how to extend my arms when hitting and when to get the bat head out in front. What we had for a head coach, in retrospect, was a teacher getting a stipend. He was fine but not really a coach. He did have an assistant coach who in theory knew but in practice smoked weed before games with my friend who hurt his thigh. I have many game memories from that freshman year. In a game against Terra Nova I wasn't feeling confident and a ball was hit hard right at me. Somehow I speared it and threw a strike to home to get the runner from third. The Terra Nova head coach who who was coaching third base yelled to me "nice play 10 (my number)". The second is against our arch rival El Camino at Orange park. In infield practice and pre-inning warm ups I used to mess around turning the double play by catching the ball on the outside of the mitt, in theory it should make for a faster exchange. My brother Pat, who played second thought I was being stupid. Then in the actual game a double play grounder was hit to Pat, I came across the bag, caught the ball on the outside of my glove, and turned two. The third memory was the final game against Jefferson which we needed to win for a share of the league title. We won the game, 2-1 I think, with one of the runs coming on a suicide squeeze I executed. Later that day, or maybe a day later I learned I made third team all league. I was sure I didn't deserve it. After the season the varsity team asked four of us including me to play summer league. I said no which really wasn't my best move baseball career wise.

Going into the sophomore season my coach told me he had another shortstop and he wanted me to move to 2nd base. It was confusing to me since we had not even practiced yet. After the first practice, I could see the new guy was clearly a better athlete. Faster, stronger arm, quicker bat. So I shared time at second base with another new comer who was really, really fast. He hit something like .444 mostly on infield singles. By the end of the year, I did't get much playing time.

That summer I did play with the varsity summer league team. I was coming into my own physically and could really chase down balls in the outfield and had a lot of range in the infield. I would still workout at shortstop but it was clear the varsity coach had no intent of playing me there. As the summer went on I played all outfield spots, third base, and second base. I had my best games in center but saw myself as a second baseman. I had a series of games where I hit the shit out the ball, like I never did before. We were playing in San Mateo and I want to say the pitcher was a future Stanford quarterback. I could barely see his fastball but drilled it. My hot streak didn't last and I went back to being an "ok" hitter but not a real threat. There was no real coaching and I didn't expect any.

Going into winter ball of my junior year, I was the second baseman but a new kid joined the team. He started at third base but it was clear second was his best position. So I became the backup and played parts of games at different positions. One day he told me he was going to skip the Saturday doubleheader so he could attend a Who concert. I thought this was my chance to shine. Saturday came and for infield practice the coach had me and a sophomore backup outfielder take grounders at second. When the game started the backup outfielder started at second base and I was on the bench. I was crushed. I decided right then and there I was going to quit the team but that I wasn't going to tell anyone. With about half the season remaining, I played hard. I was going to write that I played my heart out. But it wasn't that. More like I played my vengeance out. I mostly played outfield. I would back up every play, always be in position to recover an overthrow or a botched play. I hustled and worked harder than anyone.

When spring came around the coach put out a registration list for players to be fitted for uniforms. A couple days later he walked up to me after PE class and reminded me to sign up. I said I guess I wasn't going to play this year. He didn't try to talk me out of it. And that was that, the end of my baseball career. I wish I had kept playing.