Play ball!

The New Year for me does not start January 1st. It starts on opening day of baseball. Now that Saipan baseball is back, I feel normal again.

For diehard football fans, the year has two parts: football and not football and I am unable to argue with anyone who says the new year actually starts on opening day of college football.

As someone growing up who played baseball six months of the year and football the other six months, I grudgingly admit to enjoying basketball. It’s like having three girlfriends. The first two are my favorites but basketball is still my girlfriend.

Sunday’s opening of the Saipan Little League with 31 teams was a testament not only to the game itself but to all those who made it possible. Considering the exodus of players we have seen over the past several years and the downward turn of the economy, the turnout at Palacios Field was impressive.

Also impressive albeit in a different, climatic way, the dust storms that blew across the field unchecked.

Maybe not so nice for the fans sitting face-into-the-dirt over on the first base side, but for the players, there is something special about coming home with a dirty uniform, dusty face, smelly hands and if you’re lucky, a bruise from getting hit by the pitch or running over the catcher, or even better, a strawberry from a hard slide. The pain feels good win or lose. If you lose, you take pride in your effort. If you win, well, that’s what it’s all about.

Hope springs eternal on baseball opening day. Everyone starts the season tied for first place.

Half of the teams on opening day lose; half the teams win. All the teams know the season is young; the promise is there to get even better. It’s not bad to be 0-1.

Every season new 9-year-olds join organized baseball. For each of them, the game is a novel learning experience, a lesson in being on a team. Memories to last a lifetime.

You know you are old when Little Leaguers you coached are now coaches. Five of my former players are coaching Saipan Little League this season which means … oh, forget it.

Some of my greatest sports thrills come from Little League, from a player with first glove, uniform and cleats, to a coach watching my son with his first glove/uniform/cleats who in three years went from being over-matched to strikeout king.

And then the next year, my Glazers broke the San Vicente A’s four-year winning streak with a most dramatic playoff victory: the A’s Steve “Smoke” Cruz and Tyrone Omar were locked in a pitching duel, a 0-0 tie going to the bottom of the sixth and final inning. Justin Mizutani led off with a walk. Danny Concepcion executed a perfect bunt to advance Mizutani to second. Jefferson Saures singled up the middle. I was coaching third and waved Justin home. We won 1-0. Tears were seen after that game.

And of course, the incredible, now legendary triple play made by Tyrone in Rizal Memorial Stadium, Manila against Guam. Extra innings, Guam had runners on second and third with no outs. The batter hit a screaming liner to dead center field. Tyrone instinctively moved up but the ball was over his head. He jumped as high as he had in his life and speared the ball. The runner on third tagged up and raced for home. On the fly Tyrone threw a strike to catcher Jonathan Sablan who placed the tag just as the runner’s leg hit the plate. The umpire raised his fist and shouted “Out!” Jonathan threw up his glove and ball in celebration. The team was jumping for joy, running around like they had won the game. Tyrone was not sure how many outs there were either and was running in when he noticed the umpire from Guam waving the other runner around the bases. Tyrone looked for the ball. When he saw another umpire picking it up, he raced there in a flash, grabbed it from his hand and like a tiger on steroids pounced on the runner before he got to third in front of the cheating umpire who had no choice but to call him out. Triple play. We are going to the World Series, bay-bee!

Wow, a whole column about baseball without any mention of Alex Rodriguez. Oops, sorry.

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