A recent opinion piece in the Boston Globe:
Fearless advice: Play ball
By Kevin Paul Dupont March 13, 2011
This was always my favorite time of the year in high school. Baseball is about to start (first practices in Eastern Massachusetts schools begin a week from tomorrow), and that was the game that framed my school year, my life. From the age of 6 or so, right through my last days of high school, nothing captured my attention, meant more to me, than playing baseball.
Yes, I was that kid, the one who kept a small store of cardboard inserts, usually from my dad’s dry-cleaned shirts, and meticulously turned them into scorecards to use when watching Red Sox games on TV or listening on the radio (your host tonight: Atlantic Red Ball Service).
That would be the same kid who thought the best board game in the world consisted of a small block of wood, tiny metal spinner attached in the middle, the pointer coming to rest on the words “home run’’ or “ground out’’ or “double’’ that were carved into the wood with ballpoint pen. With each finger flick of the arrow, of course, you flipped to the next player in your stack of baseball cards. Eddie Bressoud? Oh, forget it, next card.
Although it seems incredibly shallow to me now, playing ball back then remains a part of me today, albeit a tiny part. As a player, clearly I wasn’t very good, but I thought I was good, for years believing that — get this — I could make it to the major leagues.
Trust me, it’s embarrassing to put that in print, but I take some solace in the fact that press boxes throughout the bigs have been filled for decades by guys who thought the same way when they were 10, 12, maybe even up until they were sophomores in high school, which was about the time I began to realize my rinky-dink curveball and unsteerable knuckler weren’t going to get me any further.
I was right about that. In June 1971, the spring of my senior year at Bedford High School, I turned in my laundered (thanks, mom) blue-and-white uniform and never played again. I remember thinking I would play again — heck, I was baseball, how could I not play again? — but it was gone for good.
Cars, dates, college, most of all a career undertaken midway through my sophomore year at Boston University (chosen in part for its proximity to Fenway Park) . . . all of it shifted my playing days further and further to the back pages of my mental scrapbook.
Like virtually every other part of our lives, high school baseball around here has changed dramatically, and not just because everyone uses those ridiculous pinging metal bats now. Most of all, it’s a numbers thing. Fewer kids are playing, most of all because of lacrosse, a game that had virtually zero presence in Boston and most of its suburbs when I was a kid.
Today, there are still ballplayers out in the burbs, but lacrosse has significantly diminished the number of boys who try out for baseball and track, and the number of girls who try out for track and softball.
Lacrosse right now is the thing in high school spring sports. Why?
“They look more to lacrosse because they want instant gratification and they’re afraid of failure — something not true in baseball,’’ said Phil Vaccaro, longtime athletic director at Reading High School. “Baseball’s got a lot of stand-around time, and what kid today wants to strike out or have the ball go through his legs? Fear of failure.
“They’d rather be out there playing lacrosse, where they blend in, and if you make a mistake, hey, so what? Probably no one’s going to see it or say anything about it.’’
Vaccaro, 61, grew up in Somerville, playing baseball wherever and whenever it could be played, and is a certified brother of diamond dreams.
“To this day,’’ he said — and I made him say it twice because it felt so good to hear — “I still dream about playing a ball off the Wall at Fenway.’’
Someone clinging both to that dream and an AARP card? Priceless.
The whole idea of baseball being a metaphor for life is vastly overdone. It’s true, of course, but no more or less so than any sport, including lacrosse and s****r and boxing and football. Whatever your sport, your championships will be few, your losses many, and your lessons even more.
Understandable, I suppose, not wanting to play baseball because of all the down time, although I do remember swapping some cherished insults and gossip while sitting on the bench. It’s also often cold here in the spring, and I’ll admit that doesn’t play well to down time, unless the insults and gossip are really good.
But as for that fear-of-failure thing, I know that all too well, I understand it, and I wouldn’t want it for anyone. It ends up such a buzz-kill in your life.
Most of us, I suppose, gravitate to what we do well, what is safe, where we will succeed, what exposes us to the least amount of discomfort and potential criticism and ridicule. It’s not so much about seeking the easy way out, but about going to our known abilities and limitations, being reluctant to attempt what might be embarrassing or angst-ridden. Hey, be the first to raise your hand if you’d like to be the fool? I get that.
What’s funny to me now, hearing that many kids opt for lacrosse because they fear the failure of baseball, is that I chose baseball because I feared so many other things, such as being in school plays, playing an instrument, swimming, public speaking, trying out for football, and other things I care not to make public until I am at least in my late 90s.
Baseball was my focus as a kid. It’s what I did, who I was, at least that’s how I thought of it. Significant chunks of that went on to serve me very well. But if you care to heed the advice of a faded, very average high school pitcher who declined to investigate what else was out there, then understand that high school is the time to play it and enjoy it, win it and lose it, excel with it and botch it, embrace it, and let it go.
Years from now, decades from now, the only one who will remember what you did in these games is you. I would tell you to go play baseball. Then I would tell you to make sure you play everything else.
Kevin Paul Dupont’s “On Second Thought’’ appears on Page 2 of the Sunday Globe Sports section. He can be reached at dupont@globe.com.