A few weeks ago, as Major League Baseball began its spring training season, the league’s social media accounts shared a picture of the Toronto Blue Jays playing a game at the Philadelphia Phillies’ longtime spring training home in Clearwater, Fla.
Images like this in early March always warm my cold Illinois heart.
The image transported me instantly to March 1997 — the only year our family visited our Florida relatives for spring break instead of the annual Christmas trip. That week my grandfather, who had season tickets to spring training games (the stadium was about 45 minutes south of his condo), took my younger brother and me to two games, including one against the Blue Jays.
I was a senior in high school. It was the start of only the second full MLB season after the players’ union strike ended the 1994 campaign on the eve of my 15th birthday and delayed the start of the 1995 season until April 25. It was before the historic home run chase of 1998 and the 114-win Yankees season that helped draw the national sports media back to America’s Pastime.
Sitting there watching those games, bonding across generations — to that point in my life, appreciation of baseball probably was the thing I had most in common with my mom’s dad — put a lot of thoughts into my head. As we sat there in the March Central Florida sun, with games of near complete inconsequence played before us, I felt my brain going to work in a new way.
I already fancied myself something of a writer, given my two years on the high school newspaper staff and youth columnist stint for the local suburban daily, but never before had I so clearly composed sentences and paragraphs in my mind. After we got home, I sat down and wrote. I was so proud of the result, I — using prime 1997 technology — figured out how to use our computer’s modem as a fax machine and sent my essay, completely unsolicited, to the Chicago Tribune and The Sporting News, the St. Louis-based weekly once known as “The Bible of Baseball.”
To my complete and utter shock, The Sporting News not only opted to run the piece, they had me drive down to Wrigley Field to be photographed outside the iconic red marquee. They also paid me $250. Not only was that a significant sum for a high school kid whose only job was Little League umpire, but it also made me, technically, a professional writer. More importantly, it helped send me off to college with the fool idea I was actually good enough to make writing a career.
Firmly in my horrible glasses and no desire to smile like a human phase. Also bad hair and old hat.
Long story short, I was indeed a full-time pro for almost eight full years after graduation. I remain a part-time pro, still writing end editing for the newspaper where I served as associate editor from February 2007 to March 2009. But as much as I love baseball, I write about it only occasionally — less as the years go on. I very rarely covered an actual sporting event, sticking more often to government and business beats. Looking through the early days of my personal blog (in 2004, the heart of the Cubs’ Dusty Baker era) I fancied myself something of a Cubs commentator hobbyist, but that waned as the team fell back into irrelevance, corresponding with an increase in my parenting duties.
Yet all that changed earlier this spring when our new sports editor offered me the opportunity to write a weekly baseball column. Under the banner of “Infield Chatter,” my first piece ran in today’s paper, and I am just tickled pink about the whole thing. I understand I don’t occupy any special place in the very crowded field of talented people who write about baseball, but until I was asked, I never really understood how much my creative energy in this arena was in need of an outlet. That someone wants me to log about 700 words a week while indulging a personal passion is a gift, one I hope to repay with quality work.
This picture's from inside the park — better hair, glasses and smile! And only taken a few years ago...
Perhaps this entire post is indulgent. Maybe it was just a chance to post the 1997 essay (and force me to work a bit more on this site, which remains incomplete). But being asked to write the column and finally having something to share has absolutely made my day, and in the spirit of going deep on an occasional #FPOTD, this certainly felt like something that warranted a bit more than a short Facebook status. And so here we are. Thanks for letting me tell this little story, and don’t forget I’m always interested in talking baseball.