Sunday, December 31, 1978

1978


March 25, 1978

There was one rule above all others, according to our coach. While we were required to run on and off the field, never take a called third strike, and never argue with an umpire, Coach Doug Long decreed most of all that we were to never -- under any circumstances -- get picked off third base. The other violations resulted in loss of playing time, but getting picked off third base could get you kicked off the team, thrown out of school, and pretty well deported from the entire country. To emphasize the importance of this rule, he reminded us of it every day in practice.

So our first game of the season was a home game against Valley View today, and in the bottom of the second I got on with a single. Moments later, Kevin Hollon laced a single to right center field, which advanced me to the Holy Grail of Coach Long Baseball.

Third base.

I was feeling good. I was going to score and help us to a bigger lead than we already had.

"Don't get cocky," Coach said.

"I won't."

"Watch out for the fake throw to second."

"I will."

I took a lead off third base, ready to run the first chance I got -- on a passed ball, or even a ground ball to the infield. I was ready.

But I was too read. Too cocky. And not at all ready for the fake throw to second.

After strike two, Kev took off to steal second base, and the catcher raised to throw him out. The ball left his hand. In my mind, this eliminated the fake throw to second, where the catcher acts like he will throw and doesn't, then fires down the third base line to pick off a sitting duck like me.

So I broke --

But I don't remember ever hearing of another fake throw maneuver, the one where the catcher throws to the pitcher, who in turn gets the chance to pick off the sitting duck.

Boob. Boom. I was nailed big time.

I had broken the number one rule. In the very first game.

I sat on third base with my hands on top of my head, saying "How did that just happen?"

And right next to me, I'm told Coach Long took over top me, with his hands on his hips, looking like he would kick me if there was any way to get away with it.

That was my welcome to the big leagues moment.