My Baseball Career

At nine years old, I signed up to play Little League. The teams for eight and nine year olds were called Minors and the ten-through-twelve tear olds were Majors. I ended up on the Orioles with Dickie Ruxton as my coach (he was maybe still a teenager or in his very early 20’s) and I recall being very impressed with his huge biceps. On "Opening Day" there was a parade from the center of town up to the major league field and our team got to ride on one of the firetrucks.

Usually Nenna or my Dad would drive me to the lower field on Robinson Street for games, but occasionally I got to ride my bike the 3/4 mile distance. Beyond 1st base at the end of the chain link fence was a water spigot that we could drink from (and try to squirt our teammates with). Although there was roadside parking by the first base side fence, Dad preferred to watch from his car parked in the upper lot near right field – out of reach from most foul balls and close to the position I usually played. That is until the game when – because our usual 3rd baseman Jeff Ibbitson was away on vacation – I got the assignment to play the infield. If memory serves me right, Nick Gardner was our pitcher and David Haas was the batter. Dave hit the ball into the outfield for a double, but as the ball was being returned to the pitcher he broke for third base. Nick threw the ball to me (which yes I caught) in time to turn David back towards second base. I recognized the “rundown” situation and with ball in hand gave chase – ready to throw. Everybody was screaming for me to throw the ball but I knew he was not far enough back yet and that if I threw too soon, he’d about-face again and make it to third safely. So I bluffed the throw, and he turned back towards me, and to his (and I think everybody’s) surprise I easily tagged him out. Dad wasn’t at the field for the start of the game, but after the play I heard his car horn and saw him sitting in his usual spot. It was the first time in my life (that I can recall) that I felt true pride in an accomplishment. Later in that same game a runner took a wide turn around third base as the ball was returned to our pitcher. I called to Nick to throw me the ball and we caught the unsuspecting runner casually walking back to the base. Each play drew lots of cheers and horn-honking from the spectators. I wished that Jeff would never return from vacation so I could play third all the time.

The one big hit I remember getting was against Mark LoGiudice - on a bad pitch that bounced well in front of home plate. It bounced waist high over the middle of the plate and I hit it over Charlie Hatches head (actually between his up-stretched hands like a football kicked through the goal posts) in left field for a double. Shortly thereafter I scored and proudly returned to our bench on the third base side, where coach Ruxton spoke to me about not swinging at pitches that bounce in front of the plate.

I finished the season back in right field, and when it was time to move up to the majors the next year I didn’t sign up as I didn’t think I was good enough for that league. Years later I played in a band that had Dickie Ruxton as the drummer. He asked why I didn’t play majors because he also moved up to that level that year and was looking for me at tryouts to pick me for his team.