An Evening at the Ballpark - Boise Style

Last evening we went to see the Boise Hawks baseball club, a Chicago Cubs minor league team. The main attraction was the $1 tickets, $1 hot dogs, and $1 drinks. Of course it didn't work out quite that way. The hot dog line was 3 innings long and the drinks were $2.50. Thank goodness most of us ate before we came. However, it was great fun.

There were 15 of us at the game: 7 adults and 8 children. We were located in the top of the stands on the first base side with lots of sun. We were facing north and the sun was to the left. That means the left side of our faces were what was tanned (or burned), although today I did not notice any burned faces.

Charlotte was the most relaxed and may have had the most fun (until she got tired). Nothing like a bottle and a floppy hat, from which she can periodically peak out of, to make her day.

Everyone had a good time, however a good time does not include necessarily watching the game. I think we saw a little bit of each inning, but rarely the whole inning. We did get to talk and take care of children. The kids had a great view of everything and spent a lot of time roaming back and forth. We were high enough that we didn't want them climbing up and down the steps. At least I didn't. The little kids never slowed down the whole time we were there and we were exhausted by the time we all left. The kids came home and crashed and we relaxed, then crashed. Some of the photos below show the fun we all had.

The excitement comes in trying to keep all of the kids somewhat corralled, if that is even possible. The Mom's did a great job.

Finally, we find a couple of moms focusing on having a good time. Although with the hat JoAnn has on I thought for a few minutes she was an Aussie. Love the colors and the great smile.

Friday Night Lights - 9-Year Old Style

We are on the road again. I just finished leading a workshop in central Utah so we are taking advantage of visiting with our Utah children and grandchildren. Since they grandchildren are 2 boys we took in a ball game and a play on the book, "Friday Night Lights", which was written about Texas football, but seems to aptly apply to Spanish Fork baseball.



Our 9-year old grandson plays baseball and I think he enjoys it. He is the right fielder, which means he stands 3 feet behind the basepath on the grass and sometimes watches the game. Actually a couple of hits were directed to him and he was on top of them before they got by, not that I'm sure they were hit hard enough to get by him. His throw is a bit of a shotput effect and is pretty good shotput form. The important thing for this 9-year old is that when he threw the ball it went where it was intended, even if it had a high arch.

Getting on base has a pretty standard model - 4 walks to every hit - and then, once on base, it's all about base stealing. For 9-year olds base stealing is about seeing the ball go by the catcher, watch the catcher run to the wall to get the ball and then have it register in their mind that they can steal. My favorite part is the slide. If you run towards a base, any base, you must slide. If you don't quite make it, well then you reach out with your hand and touch the base. If you didn't get to slide during the inning you walk towards home plate and take a slide. The rule? Every boy must go home with a bit of the basepath on their pants. It may be the most important component of the baseball game.

Was it fun? You bet. I think the boys had fun. I know most of the parents had fun. That is what it is all about - having fun! None of the boys took it too seriously and I only saw a couple of dads who took it too seriously. The umpire is 13 or 14 and did a great job. In the preceding game before he made an error and a lady was all over his case. Thank goodness the game was almost over. I went up afterwards, called him over and said, "You are doing a great job. Just ignore the parents." He seemed appreciative someone said he was doing a great job.

Baseball is about fun. If it's not fun then why play it. Kids are forced to take too much seriously in this society and too many parents have to make sure their kids live out their sport fantasies (or frustrations). Keep the fun in the game - and win occasionally, but enjoy it for what it is - a game.

Did I mention that the ballpark has the best hamburgers and fries I have found. Actually Spanish Fork has the best little hamburger joints I have ever found. Friday Night Lights in Spanish Fork is about baseball, boys, families, hamburgers, and fries. Does it get any better than that - I don't think so. Well, maybe they could add fireworks!

On being a Son!

Dad's are really important in our family. Of course I'm a dad writing this so I'm biased. So are Mother's, but today's blog is a special occasion. When your dad gets to a certain age and you get to a certain age you realize that both of you are more mortal than you had ever anticipated. Your dad has always been there, but now you realize he may not always be there. You recall many of the great times you had together, such as fishing in Biloxi, MS for perch, not knowing how good the catfish could be - or driving cross country singing songs, playing license plate games, and the like with all with the windows rolled down since there was not air conditioning, - going to a San Francisco Giants game with dad and grandpa, - or working in the yard trying to achieve the perfection dad expected.

As I grew older I loved to hear the stories of dad growing up. Of the time he rolled the model-T, or stole watermelons off the back of a moving truck, or when he was small and ran into a fire truck that was also moving (thankfully slowly) and was knocked out. The one story he told that stuck with me through the years was when he was in high school summer baseball, he hit a triple off of Bob Feller. Feller went on to become a Hall of Fame pitcher. He spent his whole career with the Cleveland Indians, a career that spanned 20 seasons, and 428 games. In 1962 he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. To me that meant dad must have been a pretty good ball player. It wasn't until recently he told me that when his family moved from Clarinda, IA to Des Moines that he discovered he wasn't as good as he thought he was, but I still think he was probably pretty good.

Recently I met a young man who used to be a sport agent, and one of the people he represented was Bob Feller, after Mr. Feller was in retirement. I told him the story of my dad hitting a triple off of Bob Feller and he said, "That's really a great story. Would it be okay if I got a signed ball from Mr. Feller for your dad?" Would it! Are you kidding me. It would be great. So I said yes, please see if you can. It took longer than I expected, but the baseball finally came. In the meantime, my oldest son, who lives in Des Moines, went to the public library archives and found the 1937 and 1938 North High School yearbooks with photos my father's baseball teams. He made a photocopy of the photos and gave them to me. I played with them a little bit, put together some text, framed the photo and got a case for the ball and sent them to my middle sister. Also, I made a Christmas card with a baseball on it and put dad's signature on it and a message from all of us kids in it. Then I sent it off to my middle sister in California. As I write this they are opening gifts and I'm waiting for a Skype call to participate in the "LAST GIFT" of the day.

Of all of the things we could have found for my father for Christmas, this is at the top of the list! Of course we could never have purchased it. All of us are excited by it and we know our dad will be. For all of us this is an act of love.

And finally, I have usurped my sister's photo of Dad with his Christmas present. I was able to participate via Skype and it was great to hear his excitement. Merry Christmas Dad.