A Baseball Life (Part 1)

[DOUGHBOYS]

I love baseball.
I know I start a lot of posts with those three words.
Baseball has been a part of my life for nearly all my life.
My Mom and Dad would tease each other in which word I would say first, "Mom" or "Dad".
They were both wrong.
It was "Ball'.

When I was six years old, my parents took me to Church.
During Sunday School, the Sunday School teacher said, "Danny, do you know who answers all your prayers?"
I was ready, even at six years of age, I knew the answer to this softball of a question.
He teed it up and I was going to knock it out of the park.
I stood up and said confidently..."WILLIE MAYS!"
Every adult in the room broke up laughing.
I knew then and there that they didn't think I had the right answer.
But hey, it wasn't my fault they didn't follow the Giants.

My Dad became a rolling stone. He was a member of the fire department. A great citizen.
Then something happened to him. He had delusions of grandeur.
He started moving our family here and there.
He quit his job.
He moved us to a town with a population of around 100. Pioneer, California.
I went from organized Little League to batting rocks.
I would get good tree branches, axe handles, or discarded broken baseball bats and hit the rocks that made up the gravel road in front of our house.
I would play whole games in my mind with the lineups of the Giants and Dodgers.
Being a Giant fan, Marichal beat Koufax a lot more in my head than in real life.
My Dad pursued his dreams. We were within a stone's throw of Sutter Creek and he was so sure that he was going to strike gold.
He didn't.
Our family subsisted mostly on squirrel, rabbit, and trout and bluegills.
To this day, when somebody says the word 'bluegill', my lip automatically turns up.

We moved to Colorado as I was beginning high school.
I was no longer a Giants fan. When the Giants traded Willie Mays, I decided I would never give my heart to another team.
I was wrong of course.
I give my heart now to every fantasy team I own.
In Colorado, I could only listen to baseball games at night.
The Cards on KMOX and my old pals, the Giants on KNBR.
My Dad moved to Colorado, now with the dream of working in the wildlife field.
He fancied himself an expert hunter and fisherman after our time in Pioneer.
Reality was, he got work as a painter and would finish his life in that profession.
My autograph is a little remembrance of my Dad.
He never fulfilled any dreams.
Much as I will never really have the perfect draft.

The rest of my family moved to Indiana when I was in College here.
I stayed.
I blew my arm out pitching.
But that was alright because I got to meet my future wife while I finished out my last year in College.
I threw myself into our local softball program.
Working as a Scorekeeper, Umpire, and Supervisor.
And playing fast pitch and slow pitch.
I put together a few teams that won State, National, and World titles.
After my playing days were over, I continued working at the park.
And did until retiring this year.
I've also worked for the Colorado Rockies in some capacities there also for the last six years.

[DOUGHBOYS]

A Baseball Life (Part 2)


After those softball playing days were over, I needed something else besides the softball park to fill a void.
It came in the form of 'Fantasy Baseball' magazine.
I was kicking ass in local, Yahoo, and Prodigy Baseball Fantasy leagues. No brag, just fact.
I remember exactly where I was when I saw the ad. It was during a Super Bowl that I was bored with in 2005.
I read it. I read it again.
A lump formed in my throat.
This NFBC ad was calling my name!
.............building courage........more........ok........
"Honey?"
"What would you think if we went to Las Vegas and I played in a Fantasy Baseball tournament?"
"Sure, if you think we can swing it!"
........................silence..................more silence.........
"The contest costs $1250".
I said it and waited for the cannon blast.
"To play fantasy baseball?"
"Yep."
"If you think we can afford it."
I HAD PERMISSION! I wanted to dance. Instead, I just hugged my wife, told her I loved her, and started studying.

I did well that first year and started getting on the Message Boards.
I was so into my team that I seriously didn't know the Message Boards even existed the first half of the season.
Can you imagine?

Fast Forward to now....
For the last year, six of us NFBC players have been on a group text thread. It's a joy.
We've talked about baseball, the NFBC, game 163, Shohei Ohtani, and Eric Heberlig.
We've talked a little about our personal lives.
We've busted each others balls.
We've gotten pissed off.
We've generally been men.
I haven't had too much contact with the thread over the last couple of weeks.
Last week, I was on a cruise and couldn't communicate.
And since then, stupid Thad has dominated the conversation.
For those not reading my other post, Thad is the name of that no good son of a bitch that took baseball away.
I don't like talking about Thad. It's depressing.
All the talk, opinions, claims, and stats about Thad will not result in what I want.
And that is for Thad to leave.
We don't talk about baseball much any longer.
That was the common thread between the six of us.
I don't want to talk about Thad.
Everybody in the world is doing enough of that.

Thad has reduced me to batting rocks again.
I still study for fantasy baseball, but it's with little purpose.
I'll play games in my head because there are none on the field.
I'll still take out my notebooks of study and drafts.
Make mental notes about Judge, Stanton, Mikolas, and Hamels being more draftable again among others.
Another mental note about Domingo German, in a fantasy sense, having his punishment increased from a third of a season to half or more.
RotoWorld has no meaning.
Even most of the threads on these Boards are about Thad.
For all the people you've effected in both as a trivial way for us to play a game here and the monumental sin of taking lives and ruining families, I can only say, " Thad, you sir, are a bluegill."