Thursday, October 10, 2013

the yard

Tonight I'm on the back porch with a cold beer and a good cigar enjoying what has to be one of the last warm nights of 2013. There is a crescent moon over my left shoulder accompanied by a few bold stars. The cricket are out in force; it feels very much like I'm listening to their swan song for the summer. All in all its a fine evening.

On a night like tonight it might be appropriate to turn the page from baseball for a few months so I thought I might share a few of the parks I have visited this year. I have come to appreciate the intimacy of the minor league ballparks that are scattered about throughout our southern cities. Each is different and affords, father and sons, young couples, friends, I place to sit and enjoy a game and each other company.  


The home of the Charlotte Knights is an old ball park that is probably
being torn down already. They are moving the Knights to down town next year.
I'm eager to see their new stadium

Turner Field
Its still to painful to talk about.

This is the coolest yard I saw this year. It is built from a civil war train depot/ prison in downtown Montgomery Alabama. Its the home of Tampa Bay double A affiliate, the Biscuits.  

Above and below are Atlanta's double A and Single A Clubs. I got to watch
Alex Wood pitch his last game for Double A Mississippi before being called up to the big club.


This is the home of the Birmingham Barons. This was the parks first year in operation and its
 absolutely spectacular with the city right behind left field.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

I’m not really sure where I’m at this morning, but according to my compass  I’m headed 140° south east. From here mostly the ground is distant and hazy; hiding behind a sheet of clouds.

So I think while have spare hour or three I put up a few pictures

This is the best part of traveling.




 just south of Minneapolis   









  












Thursday, July 25, 2013

common thread

Last night we all watched with sympathetic eyes as one of the great pitchers of last ten or so years lay in foul ground clutching his catcher's hand in agony. It wasn't but a few seasons ago that we felt the same twisting feeling as the great Number Ten lay at third base with a knee that was all but torn in two. It's easy to conjure those images in my minds eye, maybe because traumatic injuries are just so unexpected they leave an imprint somewhere close to the top of the brain. Its is, though, as equally as easy to remember the great moments: the walk offs and the strike outs. Its the greatness that is on my mind tonight, and not just the exploits Huddy and Chipper.

There must be some common thread all outstanding people share. It seems to be a rare trait that is hard to pin down from one individual to the next.

As I was growing up I knew an old horse trainer that was well regarded as elite in his particular field. Looking back at my memory of him I see what I believe was a kind heart, but he could be cranky and unpredictable with his moods. Somedays he would be quick with a joke and belly laugh the next day somber and detached. The one thing that never changed; when he was on a great horse he was amazing to watch. He didn't sit in the saddle like a normal person does; he didn't moves his hands like you or I would. He became something more than himself. He became something truly great; a spectacle that can't be forgotten.

One of the athletes competing at the CrossFit Games this week is an young woman that somehow shares something with the old man above. She is very much the same person from day to day. Always a warm smile and genuine kind word can be expected. She is very much different than the old horse trainer, as she wears her compassion for others loosely around her, almost like a subtle piece of jewelry. But the way she moves is very much like him. She becomes something more than she is.  She becomes a mixture of  grace, and strength that I have not witnessed before or since. She shares greatness with an old horse trainer.

Its really not a stretch to tie the pitcher, horse trainer, and crossfiter together. Its obvious that they all hold on to an uncommon gift.  They have not taken their gift for granted, instead they chosen to devote their lives to refining and sharpening that gift. Somewhere along the way, it seems to me, that the line between the gift of athletic ability inevitably becomes blurred with the gift of perseverance.

So tonight, after  two or six drinks of whiskey, I have decided that greatness is understanding your gift and having enough grit to own it.