TO THE BASEBALL FIELD
After meeting Suzanna Zanolli and negotiating our mutually beneficial contract...her translation skills for 'making conversation' - we were ready to get a job playing baseball in Italy! The problem was that Laerte (Baseball Federation President) didn't really want to talk via a translator. In fact, once I returned with Suzanna in tow it wasn't more than a few minutes before we jumped in his Olive Green Mercedes and went screaming down impossibly narrow alleys to the ballpark in Verona.
At this point I had been traveling for nearly 20 hours...awake for about 30 hours and was feeling a bit punchy! However doing 50 mph down a narrow cobblestone alley was enough to get me to put my seat belt on and wake up a bit.
We arrived at 'al Centro sportivo Gavagnin' (Gavagnin baseball field) where much to my delight there appeared to be a full fledged baseball practice in progress on a gorgeous baseball diamond. The familiar sounds of balls being hit...the pop of leather and the smell of grass was exactly what I needed after such a long trip. Standing there in my khaki pants, running shoes and button down collared shirt, Laerte began summoning me onto the field. Surprisingly, I wasn't nervous...as one place where I have always felt at home is on a baseball field...however there was one small problem; my baseball gear was in the car and he wanted me on the field now. I tried to ask if I could get my gear, however he simply kept waving his hands to 'come here'...took a glove off of one of the Italian players and through it at me. It was a Rawlings infielder's mit...beautifully maintained and oiled...well formed pocket and obviously the owner had taken a lot of time to break the glove in properly. Somehow with all the hand and arm waving, I understood that it was time to play catch.
After the first few tosses, it was apparent that a long-sleeved-button-up-shirt wasn't designed for throwing a baseball...so I unbuttoned the sleeves and pulled them up to my elbows and started getting loose.
Right then an amazing feeling came over me. Despite the fact I wasn't wearing spikes...a ball cap or baseball pants...'all in the world felt right.' The familiar feeling of the ball landing in the pocket between thumb and forefinger...the ball's quick transfer from glove to throwing hand...a quick, yet subconscious spin of the ball to get my fingers across the seams...and the whoosh and feeling of the ball coming off my fingertips with a flick on a direct line to the other players chest...made me feel confident, secure...and happy.
After playing toss for a bit with a heavy dose of adrenaline I was 'shooed' out to shortstop to take some ground balls. I have never liked playing sports in tennis shoes as I love the firm footing spikes afford, so I found myself feeling anxious. I also felt tight and tired from the 30+ hour journey. Somehow, none of that mattered...as here I was...on a baseball field as somehow, vaguely planned. Amazing how intent can manifest dreams!
I threw the ball in my hand straight down...directly to the dirt...to see how it bounced; soft dirt and the ball stays down...hard bounce and you need to pick your hops more carefully as the ball will come up on you. The field was pretty soft, so I knew that all I had to do was keep my butt down...glove down...and I should be OK.
Roll my shoulders...quick pound of the throwing hand into the pocket...shift my weight forward onto the balls of the feet and 'thwack' the first ground ball is coming my way. Auto pilot kicked in as ground ball after ground ball poured my way. Perspiration helped me get loose and that familiar feeling of elasticity in my arm meant it was 'show time'...as I only had one chance.
Time to air out my throws and showcase the arm, because the hitting wouldn't be so impressive! Instead of quick flips to first with a little something on it...I raised my elbow to use my lats and triceps to really pull down and start cranking throws across the diamond. In the midst of the stream of ground balls...I felt myself breathing and focusing on 'being in the moment.' I trusted my instincts and let the fundamentals that had been drilled into me take over. I was on a baseball field, and that's the only place I ever wanted to be!
Without notice or warning...the defining moment came in the form of a hard hit ball deep to my backhand. Right off the bat I didn't think I could get there without spikes on; however I only had a few hard digging steps to try. Thankfully the field was soft enough to allow me to get traction...yet the same soft field may keep the ball down where I can't reach it on a dead run in running shoes. As I stretched for the ball I got a break. The ball took a little hop at the end that allowed me to glove it...jump-turn-in-the-air...and throw cleanly to first base while drifting towards the left field line. As I landed I felt relieved and thankful for that last second hop...and knew I had gotten lucky! Then I heard the applause of ball players slapping their gloves and a chorus of 'bravo, and 'bravissimo' from the other ballplayers. I looked around and I saw the smiles of the players and then Laerte walking out onto the field with a smile on his face. I didn't know what it all meant...but I knew this; it felt -g-r-e-a-t!
That was the last ground ball of the night...
(more to follow)
After meeting Suzanna Zanolli and negotiating our mutually beneficial contract...her translation skills for 'making conversation' - we were ready to get a job playing baseball in Italy! The problem was that Laerte (Baseball Federation President) didn't really want to talk via a translator. In fact, once I returned with Suzanna in tow it wasn't more than a few minutes before we jumped in his Olive Green Mercedes and went screaming down impossibly narrow alleys to the ballpark in Verona.At this point I had been traveling for nearly 20 hours...awake for about 30 hours and was feeling a bit punchy! However doing 50 mph down a narrow cobblestone alley was enough to get me to put my seat belt on and wake up a bit.
We arrived at 'al Centro sportivo Gavagnin' (Gavagnin baseball field) where much to my delight there appeared to be a full fledged baseball practice in progress on a gorgeous baseball diamond. The familiar sounds of balls being hit...the pop of leather and the smell of grass was exactly what I needed after such a long trip. Standing there in my khaki pants, running shoes and button down collared shirt, Laerte began summoning me onto the field. Surprisingly, I wasn't nervous...as one place where I have always felt at home is on a baseball field...however there was one small problem; my baseball gear was in the car and he wanted me on the field now. I tried to ask if I could get my gear, however he simply kept waving his hands to 'come here'...took a glove off of one of the Italian players and through it at me. It was a Rawlings infielder's mit...beautifully maintained and oiled...well formed pocket and obviously the owner had taken a lot of time to break the glove in properly. Somehow with all the hand and arm waving, I understood that it was time to play catch.After the first few tosses, it was apparent that a long-sleeved-button-up-shirt wasn't designed for throwing a baseball...so I unbuttoned the sleeves and pulled them up to my elbows and started getting loose.
Right then an amazing feeling came over me. Despite the fact I wasn't wearing spikes...a ball cap or baseball pants...'all in the world felt right.' The familiar feeling of the ball landing in the pocket between thumb and forefinger...the ball's quick transfer from glove to throwing hand...a quick, yet subconscious spin of the ball to get my fingers across the seams...and the whoosh and feeling of the ball coming off my fingertips with a flick on a direct line to the other players chest...made me feel confident, secure...and happy.
After playing toss for a bit with a heavy dose of adrenaline I was 'shooed' out to shortstop to take some ground balls. I have never liked playing sports in tennis shoes as I love the firm footing spikes afford, so I found myself feeling anxious. I also felt tight and tired from the 30+ hour journey. Somehow, none of that mattered...as here I was...on a baseball field as somehow, vaguely planned. Amazing how intent can manifest dreams!
I threw the ball in my hand straight down...directly to the dirt...to see how it bounced; soft dirt and the ball stays down...hard bounce and you need to pick your hops more carefully as the ball will come up on you. The field was pretty soft, so I knew that all I had to do was keep my butt down...glove down...and I should be OK.
Roll my shoulders...quick pound of the throwing hand into the pocket...shift my weight forward onto the balls of the feet and 'thwack' the first ground ball is coming my way. Auto pilot kicked in as ground ball after ground ball poured my way. Perspiration helped me get loose and that familiar feeling of elasticity in my arm meant it was 'show time'...as I only had one chance.
Time to air out my throws and showcase the arm, because the hitting wouldn't be so impressive! Instead of quick flips to first with a little something on it...I raised my elbow to use my lats and triceps to really pull down and start cranking throws across the diamond. In the midst of the stream of ground balls...I felt myself breathing and focusing on 'being in the moment.' I trusted my instincts and let the fundamentals that had been drilled into me take over. I was on a baseball field, and that's the only place I ever wanted to be!
Without notice or warning...the defining moment came in the form of a hard hit ball deep to my backhand. Right off the bat I didn't think I could get there without spikes on; however I only had a few hard digging steps to try. Thankfully the field was soft enough to allow me to get traction...yet the same soft field may keep the ball down where I can't reach it on a dead run in running shoes. As I stretched for the ball I got a break. The ball took a little hop at the end that allowed me to glove it...jump-turn-in-the-air...and throw cleanly to first base while drifting towards the left field line. As I landed I felt relieved and thankful for that last second hop...and knew I had gotten lucky! Then I heard the applause of ball players slapping their gloves and a chorus of 'bravo, and 'bravissimo' from the other ballplayers. I looked around and I saw the smiles of the players and then Laerte walking out onto the field with a smile on his face. I didn't know what it all meant...but I knew this; it felt -g-r-e-a-t!
That was the last ground ball of the night...
(more to follow)
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~ Howard Thurman