Two Firsts

The Christmas vacation wasn't good for us. First of all, the Piratas are known as a good team that doesn't practice. Other teams practice and try to stay in shape but the Piratas, with the exception of a few, just don't seem to have the time. Most if not all of us have children and real jobs. Everybody loves the game immensely but it is hard to add more time beyond the half day it takes from a family day on Sunday. No one is harboring a secret dream to make it big -- not unless someone secretly got a bootleg copy of "The Rookie." There are a couple of young guys who have some potential and they complain that the old guys are holding the team back. I have to admit, with all of the good intentions in the world, I didn't practice over the Christmas break and neither did my teammates.

I thought I had arrived with plenty of time to the early 9:00 am start but for some reason everything commenced about 15 minutes early. No one really gave me an explanation. I hadn't even thrown one warm up toss. I was just given the ball about 8:45 and told to go at it. "I haven't warmed up at all," I told the catcher. The manager told me to warm up on the mound. Ouch. I think you could hear the creaking in my joints all the way up to the bleachers. Five pitches and down to second base to start the inning. This is great. I hadn't even broken a sweat yet. This was definitely a first for me. I don't think I can recall a game where I didn't warm up even at a younger age when I was "spry and limber." Okay. I have never been "spry and limber" even at a younger age. I will be lucky if I can pick up my arm off the ground after this one is over.

The team we faced was one of the best teams in the league from Cuernavaca. The top teams all have good hitting. They tend to win in massive slugfests. The pitching tends to be spotty. I was told by the catcher that the top 5 batters on this team are very good. I tried to simply put it over the plate and hoped my defense would respond. It almost worked. I got two outs with a couple of ground outs then tragedy struck. Unfortunately my teammates were a little rusty too and what should have been an uneventful inning turned into 3 runs for the other team after a couple of errors and a walk on my part combined with a timely double.

I don't think I ever really got properly warmed up. My manager had me on a 4 inning limit and by about the 4th inning, my arm was still not limber. I couldn't get the snap on the curve ball and my control was spotty. By the 4th, the wheels fell off with an error, a walk and a hit batter. The manager pulled the plug on me and put in a guy that I previously thought was only a coach. I had never seen him play before. He didn't throw very hard and cleared the bases of my runners by giving up a 3 run double as well as adding a few of his own. We are now down 8-1.

My training partner Ube came in afterward and mopped up. Then came the second event that I had never seen before. All of a sudden, there was a flurry of dust in front of the opposing dugout. Two of the players on the same team were pounding the hell out of one another. The umpire didn't seem to know what to do. The umpires do not get a lot of respect in this league so I don't blame him for being a little pensive. Their authority is questioned quite a lot. After a minute or so the fight was stopped by their teammates. The umpire still didn't know what to do so our manager ran out and supplied him with an opportunistic and well-measured response -- throw them out or they forfeit. I had to admit, it was a novel argument that had its merit, especially when you are down 7 runs. The umpire responded that he didn't think there was a rule that prohibited teammates from fighting among themselves. That didn't sound right.

In any event, we lost the argument. Ube gave up a couple of runs and we made a small comeback but it was too little, too late. We lost 10-6. I picked up my arm and went home.

Game Two

We play a game every Sunday and this is the last one before the Christmas break. Here baseball is a year round sport because the climate is perfect. Cuernavaca is known as "the city of eternal spring." Things will pick up again after New Years, giving me time to get back into shape.

Today's game is against the Leones (Lions) and our manager is giving me the ball again to start the game. I have decided to throw all fastballs. I have a lot of movement on my fastball and I decided after last week's game to just challenge the hitters and put the ball over the plate. I have a pretty good defense and I think I overthrew a bit last week. It would be good not to hit anyone.

The same heckler is here again "Gringo, Go to you House!" Snap! Got me again. A few other heckles surface that quite frankly I couldn't decipher. It definitely wasn't English or Spanish. One player on our team is particularly proficient at heckling back. The Cocodrilo (the Crocodile) has no fear about confronting spectators, other teamates or opposing players, and umpires. He takes up my cause, relating how I am going "smoke" everyone today. Don't brag too much, I tell him.

I give up a run in the first and in the second inning but no one really hits me hard. I struck out quite a few batters. No one would have scored if it hadn't been for a few silly mistakes on my part by trying to pick off a runner on first and a wild pitch with a guy on 3rd. In the 3rd inning we jump out quickly with 5 runs and then add 7 more over the next two innings. I start feeling a bit more confident and take out what is left of the "A game" velocity. I throw a bit harder and then tossed in one curve just for fun and struck out a batter. After a really long rally on our part, I tell the coach that I should probably bow out at this point as I have stiffened up. A left-handed pitcher called "Cafe" or "Coffee" comes in and shuts down the Leones. When he strikes out batters, Cocodrilo chimes in "your coffee has been served, guey!" Showing the Mexican sense of humor, he is called Cafe because his is much darker than everyone else. Mexicans love joking about race and skin color. As we pour it on to the tune of 12-2, darkness falls in the 6th inning and the game is called.

Win number one for "The Rookie!" I even got a 2 RBI double which is now costing me dearly as I actually had to run around the bases as well as slide. Could someone unchain the plow attached to my back? I will be paying for this tomorrow. Thank God for extra strength naproxin.

Training Begins

Did I mention everything hurts after the first game? I am in decent shape in general. I can jog 4 miles without stopping. I can hike up the Tepozteco in 20 minutes. Baseball is different. You isolate many core muscles when throwing a baseball and as any injured pitcher can tell you, ligaments and other connective tissue need to be slowly conditioned.

I was invited to train with one of the other pitchers on the team. His name is Ube (pronounced oo-bay). He is all of 17 years old but has an incredible passion to play. He has gone to Monterrey a couple of times to tryout camps for the Mexican professional team "Los Sultanes." He lives in the small village of Yautepec just 15 minutes from my home in Tepoztlan. We practice 2 times a week with a group of young kids from the Yautepec team in the 2nd division.

There are 3 divisions and we are in the 1st. Ube tells me these guys are afraid to be in the 1st division. He also tells me that we have a good team but most of our guys don't practice enough. He says we could be great if they would just apply themselves a bit more. Ube tells me that almost everyone is "old." I ask him what "old" is to a 17 year old and he tells me "they are all around 28." I laugh and ask him how old he thinks I am. He doesn't answer. I laugh again.

The First Game after 12 Years of Retirement

The first game was a little rough. I couldn't find the strike zone all day. I throw sidearm and couldn't get the feel for the mound or my curve ball. I didn't get hit hard except for once but when you don't put the ball over the plate you are going to have a difficult day. My son had no idea whether I was doing good or bad but every time I looked up, he gave me the "thumbs up" sign regardless. You can't beat unconditional support.

We ended up winning but in a pretty ugly fashion 12-9 Piratas de Cuernavaca over Zacatepec. I hit the same poor bastard twice which is usually grounds for charging the mound. Luckily, he didn't take it that way and came over and laughed about it with me when the game was over. I told him that he frightened me too much so I pounded him off the plate. I am not sure I would be so gracious if I were hit twice. Needless to say, I got ridden by the crowd with a lot of hecklers practicing their English. Gems such as "Gringo go to you house!" made me laugh.

I hurt pretty much all over. I am going to have to get in better baseball shape.

The Beginning

I do love baseball. There was a time when I tried to deny it. I hurt my arm. I went to law school. I did other things . . .

Then came my son. Just barely old enough to play at four. It stoked up those old feelings. Seeing him run around the diamond and talk about "the kids" whenever he saw an MLB game. It brought it all back.

His coach asked me if I played. I said "yes." Did I mention that I live in central Mexico? Far away from Iowa where I grew up. I want to play again. I want my son to see me play. This is going to be an adventure.