Brothers, Baseball, and Beer: My Baseball Career Part 1

When I first started rereading a story that I wrote in high school about a fictional baseball hero named Dante Cimadamore, I found pages upon pages of what I envisioned my baseball career would have looked like had my father forced me to play Little League.

The novel runs a couple hundred handwritten pages, and features homerun heroics, perfect games, and a romance birthed in a backyard baseball field (that would eventually become the foundation of my novel).

A quarter of the way through it though, I make my main character live through my own short-lived baseball career. My older brother was my first Scott League coach and endured a lot of my strikeouts and general offensive ineptitude. By my third and final year, I managed to become a serviceable outfielder and even hit more than .300.

I’ve always tried to be an honest writer, but even I’m surprised on how honestly I dealt with my brief, recreational baseball career (although I do allude to the main character’s future greatness). The next few posts on this blog will include the full story of Dante Cimadamore’s summer league trials and Daniel Ford’s Major League Baseball aspirations.

After you read this, go outside and have a catch, or play some pepper!

Part 1: Tryouts

I believe this was taken right before my first Pony League game.

“It’s a good thing the tryout only lasted a few hours. Had it been longer, Dante would have needed a year’s worth of physical therapy to recover from it.”—Scott League director Jeff Jay

Upon returning to their hometown, Dante, Tim, and Patrick were instant celebrities (editor’s note: This takes place after Dante’s Little League wins the Little League World Series).

Parades were held, articles were written, and city awards were given out. Patrick Russell was bestowed the greatest gift of all. His Little League number was retired and he was given the key to the city. The rest of the team wasn’t so lucky.

“We got a commemorative hat and certificate, both of which I lost in the first week I had it.”—Tim George The winter months passed by, allowing the craze over the young athletes to dissipate to the point where they could live normal lives again. However, when warmer weather finally arrived, so did the fan’s hunger for the game.

“Thanks to those boys, this town became baseball crazy.”—Parent

The coming of spring also brought new challenges to the boys of summer who had reigned supreme the year before. A new league beckoned and called for all those who thought they were worthy to move on from their Little League roots. Only a handful of Destiny’s Team—the nickname immortalized on their commemorative hats—answered the call. The rest sought other interests.

“I would have felt like I was under pressure all the time, and that’s no way to play the game.”—John Machado

“I found out I was a much actor than a second baseman.”—Malcolm Miller

A hundred and forty baseball players registered that year for the town’s recreational Scott League. Half that number would be put through the stress of a tryout. Dante Cimadamore stepped onto a full-size baseball diamond for the first time, armed with his talent and trusty glove.

“Just me and Rosebud. If I had known what was going to happen, I would have brought body armor.”—Dante Cimadamore

That day, Dante had been inspired (by what, only God knows) to try to broaden his horizons. He opted to leave the confines of the outfield to tryout as an infielder. He got in line behind the other first basemen and waited for the tryout to start. Dante wanted to show people he was versatile and could do more than hit and chase after lazy fly balls.

“I saw Dante trot out to first base and the first thought that went through my mind was ‘He’s going to kill himself.’”—Tim Nix

From his Little League experience, Dante thought he knew how and where to hit the cutoffs. However, he moved left when he was supposed to move right, and dropped every throw that came in from the outfield. Standing outside the foul line, Dante pictured the coaches crossing his name off their list, which made him more determined. Sadly, his determination would not overcome his lack of talent playing first base.

As the infield/outfield session moved into the infield, the real horror began. Surprisingly, Dante handled throws from the third basemen and short stops easily, but bobbled several of the second basemen’s throws to first. As his waited for his turn to complete a few double plays, Dante glanced longingly toward the outfielders. He saw the catching fly balls and fielding easy line drives—things he was capable of doing without thinking about it. He brushed the thoughts away and stepped back onto the dusty infield.

The third baseman started the double play off perfectly by getting off a crisp throw to the shortstop standing at second base. The fielder took a moment to collect the ball and pivot. Dante saw the throw head for the dirt and knew he was in trouble. The ball skipped in the dirt and struck Dante’s knee.

“I saw him miss the ball and then saw him jumping around in pain. I wanted to go over and make sure he was okay, but I didn’t do anything wrong, so I just let him be.”—Shortstop

The pain soon subsided to a sharp tingle. Dante eagerly stepped back onto the field, determined to show the coaches he could make the scoop on a bad throw. Once again, the same shortstop fired a low throw Dante’s way. Dante kept his eye on it the whole way. However, Dante stabbed at the ball instead of letting it come to him. The ball glanced off his glove and headed like a missile for his big toe on his right foot.

“Hands down, the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”—Dante Cimadamore

The blow to his foot knocked Dante to the ground. Slowly, he raised himself into a kneeling position and crawled into foul territory. He faced the fact that his days as a first baseman were numbered.

Of course, the coaches wanted to end the tryout with base running. Dante tried to mentally push the pain away, but it was too much for him. After gimping around first base, he fell on the way to second. He pulled himself up and forced his legs to walk briskly to the second base bag.

“I couldn’t believe it. It was the first time he hadn’t blown away the competition. He fell down! I’m pretty sure that was the last time anyone saw Dante not do something spectacular on a baseball field.”—Patrick Russell Dante didn’t even acknowledge the chuckling players standing on the edge of the outfield grass. He fell into the green grass of left field thoroughly exhausted. Jeff Jay, the league’s director, said a few words on how this was the best tryout they had had in year.

“Best tryouts, my ass.”—Dante Cimadamore

The draft was the following day. Dante wasn’t looking forward to it. Although every player made a team, he was sure he was going to end up with a coach who would make him ride the bench all year. For the first time in his life, Dante limped off the field not proud of what he’d done on it.

***

An evening later, Dante was interrupted from his catnap by a ringing phone. He had been icing his swollen knee and his even more swollen big toe. He knew what kind of news was on the other end of the line, so he took his time answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Is this Dante Cimadamore?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Ty Russell, a coach from the Scott League. Got a little beat up the other day, huh?”

“Yeah…” Dante said. “Russell. You wouldn’t be…”

“Patrick Russell’s brother. Yes. I taught hum everything he knows,” Ty said.

“Well, last year’s Little League squad thanks you for that.”

“I bet. Okay, I drafted you. You’re on the Phantoms. I saw a lot of heart in that tryout despite what happened. You kept getting back up. You played the outfield last year right?”

“Yup,” Dante said. “I tried something new and it backfired on me.”

“Well, I’ll put you in right field and we’ll forget you ever tried to play the infield. How’s that sound?” “How can I say no?” Dante said. He felt relieved.

The pain stopped instantly. His flame for the game burned brighter than ever. Dante Cimadamore was a Phantom and he vowed that the Scott League would never be the same.

“I knew what I was getting myself into. If I was going to have emotion from my team, I need that kid. He ended up giving us a lot more than that.”—Ty Russell

Also check out:  

• Brothers, Baseball, and Beer: Perfect Pat  
• The Great Little League Homerun Race

Every Baseball Has A Story

According to MLB.com, a regulation baseball “shall be a sphere formed by yarn wound around a small core of cork, rubber or similar material, covered with two stripes of white horsehide or cowhide, tightly stitched together. It shall weigh not less than five nor more than 5 1/4 ounces avoirdupois and measure not less than nine nor more than 9 1/4 inches in circumference.” It’s hard to believe that something I’ve devoted most of my life loving and obsessing over fits into the palm of my hand. In the words of Roger Angell, “any baseball is beautiful…no other small package comes as close to the ideal in design and utility.” In the spirit of that notion, I took a closer look at some of the baseballs I’ve collected over the years and the memories they brought with them. Every baseball indeed has a story and each one is as special as the one before it. Today I offer three from my collection that are very dear to my heart and serve as reminders of why I love the game as much as I do.

First Hit, June 25th, 1998

Watching baseball as a kid, I always loved how when a player laced his first base hit, the opposing team would flip the ball into his dugout for a keepsake. After not playing Little League and going hitless my first season and a half in Pony League, I figured that I would never be able to have that first hit experience. On a hot summer day in June against the Bees, I came to plate pretty angry after making an error in the field. The pitcher wound up and heaved the ball toward the plate. I remember taking a step and swinging as hard as I could. I made contact and the ball dropped in front of the right fielder. I made the turn around first base for the first time in my life with my legs shaking. I remember feeling like a huge weight had just been lifted off my life. I had something other than a zero in my hit column (not to mention I had pulled the ball for maybe the only time in my career). The best part came after the game. I was waiting patiently for my older brother (who was my coach at this point) to unlock the doors of his baby blue Buick when I saw a ball dart through the air toward me. I caught it easily and looked up at my brother. “Nice hit,” he said simply. I’ve had the ball ever since.

Little League Phillies 2000

I tried my best to be as involved as possible in my younger brother’s Little League career since I never had one of my own. I always helped out his coaches during practice or games from the time he was in tee-ball to his first year in the “majors”. In 2000, I was cut from my high school team after the tryouts and was disillusioned, miserable and desperate to at least remain apart of the game. Luckily, my neighbor had become coach of the Phillies and offered me the chance to be his assistant coach. I said yes without even thinking about it. One of the best parts of the experience, other than watching my younger brother become one hell of a ballplayer, was meeting and coaching a young kid named Chris Collins. He wasn’t the best player and I used to kid him that we could time him running around the bases with a sundial. His smile never wavered, his jokes never seemed to run out (some of which at his own expense and his undying optimism was infectious to every one on the team. Now out of baseball for good, I was proud that there were other players like me out there giving it their best despite not having the skills others possessed. He really proved that baseball is first and foremost a game about heart. It’s nice to be able to check out all the young signatures on this ball and remember those times every now and again.

St. John's Red Storm vs. #1 ranked Stanford Cardinal
2004 NCAA Palo Alto Regional

“You’ve been awfully spoiled this year, Danny,” my friend (and former team manager) Derek told me after we found out St. John’s Baseball had been selected to participate in the 2004 NCAA College World Series Tournament. I couldn’t argue with him. Before the season started, I had never been on an airplane, never mind seen the West Coast. Now, with trips to Texas, Arkansas and Notre Dame under my belt, I was headed to beautiful Palo Alto, California to watch my guys play in postseason baseball. My mother had a different reaction when she got the news. She cried. I hadn’t been home in months and with a summer internship in Maine looming, it now looked like I would be away even longer. I remember buying new shorts, washing my lucky polo shirts I had been wearing all year and buying a brand new pair of Oakley sunglasses in the airport to try to look as cool as possible for the televised games. Seeing California for the first time did not disappoint. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky the entire time we were there and the temperature was consistently 80 degrees. Also exciting was the fact that owing to a scheduling fluke, I got my own room at the hotel. I’ll probably never know what it feels like to work in the Major Leagues, but I have to think that this experience came close. We were playing at Sunken Diamond Field, which is one of the prettiest ballparks I’ve ever since at any level.

As the for baseball part of it, we held our own against Long Beach State (a team led by Jered Weaver, who’s now pitching well for the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim) in Game One, but eventually lost to a bases loaded single in the bottom of the ninth. We beat the UNLV Rebels in our second game, setting us up to play the #1 ranked team in the country to stay alive in the tournament. The Stanford Cardinal were led by John Mayberry Jr., who was a first round draft pick by the Texas Rangers the next year. We started Matt Tosoni, a freshman from Canada who had already beaten Notre Dame on his way to racking up an impressive five wins that season. What we didn’t know then was that he had been battling ulcerative colitis and this would be his last start until 2006. He went six strong innings and was let down by his defense’s five errors. He also gave up a homerun to Mayberry that I think still hasn’t landed. We fought hard all game, but couldn’t find a way to get to Stanford’s freshman pitcher. After the last out was recorded, I realized that it wasn’t only the end of our season, but for some of our seniors, it was their last game in collegiate baseball. I remember looking at our senior shortstop Mike Rozema gazing out at the field with his hands on his hips. He had one of the best pair of hands I’ve ever seen for an infielder and he carried himself with a grace and class off the field that some major leaguers don’t have. I remember his eyes were red as he gathered up his stuff and headed for the bus. I made it a point when we got back to tell him that it had been a real honor to work for him and that I appreciated how nice he had been to me in my rookie year as manager and how hard he played the game. He was drafted by the Atlanta Braves soon after and got all the way through AAA before retiring in 2008.


Player Spotlight: Neal Ball



I found three other major leaguers with the last name Ball (Art, Jeff and Jim), but Neil beat them all out for the spotlight this week. His full name is Cornelius Balland he was born in 1881. Ball played seven seasons as an infielder for the New York Highlanders, Cleveland Naps and Boston Red Sox from 1907 to 1913.

He batted .247 in his first full year with the Highlanders in 1908, including 110 hits, 16 doubles and two triples. He also stole 32 bases. His best season came in 1911 playing for the Naps. Ball batted .296, with 122 hits, three homeruns (a career high) and 45 RBI. He also stole 21 bases and finished with 14 doubles and nine triples. He finished his career with the Red Sox and ended up with a lifetime average of .251, including 56 doubles, 151 RBI and 92 stolen bases.

Ball also has the distinction of being the first player in Major League history to turn an unassisted triple play exactly 100 years ago today. He was playing shortstop for the Naps behind Cy Young and there was a line drive hit toward him. There were runners on first and second who were on the move because the Red Sox coach had called for a hit and run. After making a leaping catch, all Ball had to do was step on second and wait to tag out the runner coming from first base.

The glove Ball used and a picture of him with the three men he got out are on display at the National Baseball Hall of Fame. For more details, read this great article written by Ball’s great niece Kathia Miller for Naplesnews.com. You can buy a tee-shirt with Neal Ball’s image on it here. You can also buy an old newspaper from July 19, 1909 with details of the game here.



Summer Reading List:
A Walk in the Woods & Life of Pi



If you’ve never read anything by the travel writer Bill Bryson, A Walk in the Woods is the perfect place to start. In this book, Bryson tackles the 2,100 miles of the Appalachian Trail along with a bumbling overweight sidekick. It is sidesplitting funny and is written in a clear and direct style that makes it perfect to bring along on a vacation or beach day. In between fretting over bear attacks, searching for his wandering companion and navigating hills, mountains and weather, Bryson sheds the spotlight on one of our national treasures and the people that make it so. It’s a wonderful read and will make you want to raid EMS and buy out Trader Joe’s trail mix section and hit the trail!



Life of Pi by Yann Martel is just a beautiful novel. The story about a shipwrecked boy all alone on the open seas with only a tiger as his companion is a remarkable tale of survival at all costs. You can’t help but turn the pages rapidly to see who wins this battle of wits with death as the only consolation prize. The end might have you scratching your head, but in my opinion, only makes the novel all the more memorable and inspiring. Also, the beginning of the novel will give the reader an interesting perspective on zoos and how they fit into our society. This is a couple days read at the most and will leave a lasting impression.

Summer Reading/Viewing List Part 1

Summer to me has always been a time where my appetite for devouring any book, movie or television show put in front of me knows no bounds. In that spirit, during the next couple of months I'll offer up my recommendations for your lazy, summer days and nights. This inaugural list is mostly baseball related, but I plan on highlighting a wide range of diverse genres to satisfy as many people as I can. If you have any suggestions for me, feel free to send them my way. Long live summer!

Summer Game and Five Seasons by Roger Angell





I read Summer Game and Five Seasons by Roger Angell late last February and doing so made me crave the start of the baseball season like never before. Angell’s writing made me feel like I was sitting next to him in a bar having a conversation over watered down light beer.

Summer Game chronicles the years 1962 through 1971, an era that saw the demise of the great Yankee championship teams, rise of the Baltimore Orioles and two former New York teams in sunny California. One of my favorite chapters is the one in which he goes into statistical detail on 1968’s “Year of the Pitcher”. In a year in which the great Bob Gibson of the St. Louis Cardinals pitched to a record 1.12 ERA, the two leagues combined batting average was .232 and there were 340 shutouts recorded.

Angell’s heart though lies with the woeful infancy of the New York Mets which is sweetly apparent in every chapter devoted to New York’s second team. At a game early their inaugural 1962 season (in which the Mets lost a record 120 games), Angell struggles to figure out why the Mets fans surrounding him are cheering and rooting on such an inept team. He realizes that the Mets symbolize the antithesis of the mighty Yankees; that “there is more Met than Yankee in every one of us”.

Five Seasons picks up right where Summer Game left off in 1972. Some of the highlights include the greatest World Series every played in 1975 between the Boston Red Sox and the Cincinnati Reds, three faithful Detroit Tigers fans and the three year dynasty of the Oakland A’s. Like Summer Game, the Yankees are strangely absent from the scene (until the 1976 season detailed toward the end of the book). It was refreshing to read about a time in which my favorite team couldn’t just demand the center of attention. I liked reading about characters such as Vida Blue, Nolan Ryan, Tom Seaver and Brooks Robinson, none of whom donned the Yankee pinstripes.

The Bronx is Burning by Jonathan Mahler


I caught bits and pieces of the eight-part ESPN special a couple years ago, but not enough to really understand what happened in the sultry summer of 1977 in New York City. I picked up the book by Jonathan Mahler in a bargain section of a bookstore and blew through it in little over a week. Intertwined with the Yankees impressive World Series run is the story of a much different city than the one I live in now. Crime was rampant, a blackout inflamed the ghettos in Brooklyn and the Bronx and there was a serial killer on the loose terrorizing young couples for a year. The city was decaying and being fought over during a bitter mayoral race won eventually by Ed Koch. Also interesting was Mahler’s detailing of Rupert Murdoch’s purchase of the New York Post and how it set off a newspaper war the likes of which not seen in decades. He makes the larger than life persona of appear more human, well, until his three World Series homeruns made him a hero to New Yorkers who had vilified him all season long. Mahler lets the facts of that year speak for themselves, hardly adding any of his own dramatizations. Even non-Yankee fans will appreciate how far the city has come since those dark days and how our problems now are not insurmountable.

ESPN Baseball Encyclopedia



This is my Bible. It’s where I get all of my stats whenever I do a Player Spotlight. Currently, I’m using ESPN’s fourth edition which came out after the 2006 season, but I was weaned on my older brother’s 1980’s edition. I used to lug that tome around to both of my brother’s practices and ask my dad a million questions about players he watched as a kid. After complaining for years that I didn’t have an updated copy, I finally walked down to the Barnes and Noble near St. John’s and picked one up. I could barely afford my rent at that point, but it didn’t seem to matter because fresh statistics from the past ten years were now at my finger tips. Now I know that Mike Gallego has a lifetime batting average of .239, Jim Abbott won 87 games with only one hand and Ron Karkovice hit 96 career homeruns. It’s been an invaluable tool and if there are fans as nerdy and opposed with meaningless stats as I am out there, this book is for you.

Baseball, directed by Ken Burns


Baseball, directed by Ken Burns, is a masterpiece. There is no other way to describe it. Each decade of baseball’s history is detailed in Burns’ signature style and highlights the changes in the country during baseball’s rise as the national pastime. More importantly, however, is the treatment that Burns gives to the Negro Leagues. He does not shy away from the truth that the best ball players might not have been playing in the white Major League. Players such as Josh Gibson, who was characterized as a “black Babe Ruth” and the great pitcher Satchel Paige finally get their due as integral parts of baseball’s history. With more enlightened background information, I was able to even more fully appreciate the heroism of Jackie Robinson.

As a New York fan, I was impressed with Burns’ portrayal of the great New York Yankees, New York Giants and Brooklyn Dodgers teams of the 1950s. For a decade, all three teams were great and were seemingly always battling each other for a championship. I’ve heard some criticism that Burns is too New York centric, but there is no way to separate the city from baseball’s history and I think he does more than an admirable job of balancing everything.

A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn



This book in no way shape or form has anything to do with baseball, but I felt it necessary to include it on my first list. This book should be required reading for all Americans. This is one of the first books I read when I started to gain a passion for our nation’s past. Expecting to find the same stories that I had learned throughout my schooling, I quickly found out that this wasn’t my father’s history book. After reading it, you’ll never think the same way about race relations, labor unions or Christopher Columbus. Zinn sheds light on side of history that has for too long been obscured. Our rise to being a superpower has not been easy or preordained and was done primarily on the backs of the people the Constitution and Declaration of Independence claimed to protect. This book affirmed my belief that lessons for the future can indeed be learned from the past and that history does not need to repeat itself. It may not be good beach reading, but it should be a book that finds its way into your hands sooner rather than later.




Happy Fourth of July!

Being a patriotic fellow, the Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. As a kid, I remember fondly the barbeques my aunt would host every summer without fail in which she made enough hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salads and Whoopee pies to feed most of Southern Connecticut. Not so fond are the memories of me clinging to the side of the pool in the shallow end while all the “big” kids were having fun in the deep end. Of course, no Fourth of July is complete without fireworks and my cousins always put on quite a show despite the cringing from my aunt and my mother.

That being said, the Fourth gives us pause to remember not only how our great country came to be, but also the men and women who have given their lives to ensuring our democratic freedoms. My undying gratitude and hearty well wishes go out to all the service men and women who are stationed across the globe and here at home in the United States; especially one Airman in particular who is upholding a proud Ford tradition in the armed services. Patrick, we miss you, we’re proud of you and we look forward to your graduation in August.

Wishing everyone and their families a happy, healthy and safe Fourth of July weekend!