There’s nothing quite like reminiscing.
Went to the ballfield that I played on as a kid. Recalled running soccer laps and comparing myself as a kid to World Cup players; recalled running the bases before I was even 10 years old; remembering how seldom I got on first in practice; second was even rarer and third was weird because I almost NEVER faced that way. Almost NEVER touched home.
Then, I came to the outfield, and I recalled my FAVORITE memories from baseball. Standing out here has ALWAYS made me happy.
Then I recalled my older years, and everything about them makes me as happy as I could be.
There’s too much to go into.
Then I recalled playing soccer on this field, and running laps. Then I thought about the World Cup. Then pro baseball players.
I was never that good. Didn’t understand the rules, but I had fun.
Remember wanting my dad to sign me up, and I’m glad he did.
I’ll try to remember some of my favorite sports memories.
I remember getting hits infrequently, and LOVING that feeling when the bat made solid contact with the ball.
I remember getting hit by a line drive at third at practice, and my mom freaking out and making me wear a chest protector underneath my uniform (which I didn’t wear that much).
I remember pretending to get drunk with two other outfield subs from Gatorade and our coaches getting mad at us.
I remember going to concessions in-game and everybody screaming at me when I got back, telling me that I had two strikes (I struck out to end the inning. Maybe even the game. I don’t quite remember. I think it could have been the game).
I remember a particular at-bat at Old Fort Elementary where I swung at a pitch head-high (I bat left-handed: I was always proud of being different and proud to be like my dad) and I hit it into right field, where I got a double and drove in two runs.
I remember the first year that I played first base. I was older, and I had the courage to ask the coach if I could try, and I guess he liked what he saw because I stayed there for the last few years of my career.
I hindcaught for someone that played for the Red Sox or one of their minor league teams, I think, at a traveling ball practice that my brother played in. He HAD to have thrown at least 70 and I took a fastball right to the jaw. I LOVED catching and wished I would have done it more.
I remember various coaches. I remember loving EVERYTHING about soccer, and being one of only TWO guys on one team one year, and ALWAYS getting kicked in the nuts with the ball, pretending that I got kicked in the stomach.
I ALWAYS had a boner that year, and it was hard to hide in those shorts.
I remember a specific soccer coach just now, while editing this. We went to Pizza Hut. I think we lost every game that we played, and I remember two guys in particular that played on my team and maybe a couple of girls, but even though we lost every game, I had fun. I wondered about that coach, though.
In other years, I played goalie a few times, and it felt indescribable. One time, it rained and I made several saves. I was wearing glasses (in fifth grade). I had GOTTEN the glasses because one school night, I stayed up late playing Twisted Metal III (like staying up until I was supposed to WAKE up). I lied and told mom that I had a headache, and for SOME reason, I ended up at the eye doctor (I think she asked “Can you see ok?”, and I was like “Uhhhhhhhhh” and purposely crossed my eyes while “reading”) I have other memories of this game as well, but I’ll probably discuss them another time.
I lied and pretended that I couldn’t read the chart (I could always see just fine), and I got two pairs of glasses: one pair that did absolutely NOTHING that I wore, and a stronger backup pair that made me sick. I wore the glasses for probably less than a year (I had ALWAYS thought that glasses were so cool).
I bought a $10 pair of Oakley sunglasses at one of my brother’s traveling games that had the lenses that would turn TWO different colors: gold and purple. I almost NEVER wore them.
I loved playing on the giant muddy hill when my brother played. Concession stand food was ALWAYS fantastic, and when I had a couple hundred saved up as a teenager, MAN did I LOVE that concession stand ❤
I remember being CONSTANTLY horny at the ballpark.
Whether I was playing or at one of my brother’s games.
I remember this ONE teammate that had a sister that would stand against the fence in the dugout and bend over. She was flirting with someone else on the team.
There’s too many good memories as far as plays are concerned. One particular pop fly that I caught; another one that I can’t remember if I did or not. A DIVING stop at second (the only time that I got to PLAY second, and I ABSOLUTELY loved it: the throws were so short to first, which I thought was funny, and I began to wonder about the science behind the different distances of the throws, as well as why these different positions existed from the creator of the game if there were so many differences to do the same goal: to get the guy out at first) on a grounder and a throw-out at first (one of the only successful dives that I can remember, and maybe one of the ONLY ones, honestly).
I didn’t understand baserunning as a fielder until WAY late in my career.
I remember a stolen base or two.
I remember getting on third in the last inning. We were behind. The ball got away from the catcher and I ran for home as fast as I could.
I got tagged out.
My coach was mad and said “Didn’t you hear me say ‘STOP!’?”
I didn’t care. I had never put in that much effort before while running the bases and I was SO proud of myself.
I remember bloody knees ALL throughout my childhood, as well as various injuries and stupid decisions RELATING to those injuries, such as crawling under metal bleachers at a baseball game and cutting my arm open, which I still have a scar for (I used to lie to myself and say that it happened in a bike accident so that I didn’t have to admit that my mom was right).
My favorite part was my teammates. When you had good teammates, nothing in baseball could beat that camaraderie.
I remember various pitchers on my team, and never getting to pitch.
I remember rainouts that couldn’t be made up.
I remember my dad’s stories when HE was a kid (he was APPARENTLY a good hitter), and I remember hearing stories about my grandpa and what he did with my dad as well.
I remember taking pitch after pitch after pitch while trying to philosophically understand baseball (why do we go from home to first instead of home to second? Wouldn’t it be interesting if we did that and had to avoid the pitcher while staying in the baseline? It seemed rather arbitrary. I didn’t understand sports or rules philosophically. I was less than 13 years old. PROBABLY not even 10. There is SO much space to throw a baseball (ACTUAL space) even when a catcher is in front of you. How do you know it will go straight? Because of this, I never liked throwing the baseball, and instead I thought about it (typical philosopher: all of the jokes are 100% true). Finally, I saw some kids throwing sidearm and I tried it, and I finally threw straighter and harder. The snapping of the wrist. Of course, I have COUNTLESS baseball video game memories with my brother and his friend, me being in charge of everything, starting, I believe, with Triple Play ’98 (Daryll Strawberry for the Yankees. The Yankees always KILLED in that game. My brother’s friend’s dad always played as the Pirates). I have played baseball video games for years, and I loved them. I still recently enjoy baseball video games (I think about them (and always have) and EVERYTHING philosophically. I’ll explain later).
I remember pizza parties and swimming parties after every season. I had some GREAT coaches.
I remember the house with the Pizza Hut roof, and church with various gifts in VBS (I LOVED the gifts, but some people got better stuff than I did).
I remember my grandma coming to EVERY game, and always going out to eat afterwards, but that is a story for another time.
I remember thinking that batting gloves somehow made you a better hitter (I eventually stopped using them).
I remember a $40 Nike glove from Dick’s, I think, that was HUGE that was my second glove ever, that I used for most of my life (I still have it). I think I’ve ever owned two (the first got left out in the rain and got slugs in it at one point while sitting on the car on the carport that was broken down for years (the first car that I ever remember riding in: it was a Horizon) that had black widows in it, and my current glove got left out in the rain as well (I think it was “Hot Glove” that fixed it right up 😀
I remember being fascinated by the differences between gloves: how they fit, size, color, how they closed, etc.
I LOVED putting on my uniform and wearing it made me feel proud.
Basketball has its OWN set of memories, but I’ll remember them later.
I recall playing in a rainstorm and sewage with my brother (we thought it was mud). Dad came home to us playing in the drainage ditch in the front yard right beside the road. He was not too proud.
I also remember getting caught playing on the roof.
Trees are another day.
I remember when I only used computers for Windows 98 and solitaire (I didn’t even know that it was a non-computer game at first).
I could talk about my history with technology, and how I philosophically handled this situation.
I could talk about my personal history with how I deal with people telling me that I write too much (a joke).
I remember playing catch with my dad and brother.
We used to pitch to each other until we HIT each other, and Jason hit me in the ear and head from point blank range.
I remember he peed in my mouth and we fought until dad got home, and acted like nothing happened.
I remember getting into physical fights with my mom when I was younger. She never HAS had a lot of common sense, even though she’s always loved us (her lack of common sense causes problems, ESPECIALLY to me).
I remember her being gone for weeks at a time and moving out.
I remember my parents’, for lack of a better term, separation for a while.
I remember always being attracted to our friends’ moms.
I remember a particular group of friends that I’ll discuss later. We’d go over there at 7 pm or so and stay until 4 am Friday nights (and sometimes Saturdays). Our parents played card games: ESPECIALLY Phase 10 (I didn’t know this game was that old until looking this up. I thought it was recent, like invented when they started playing).
I’ll have to talk about my sports obsession when I was younger at a later date. (As well as troubles that I got into).
I remember climbing trees with this group of friends.
Stories will come later.
I ALWAYS had a boner underneath my athletic cup.
I had my own bat for a time.
Playing on the playgrounds and checking out attractive girls was the BEST ❤
I’ll discuss my church past at a later date.
I’ll probably also discuss my EMBARRASSING sexual history at some point, as well as how my nature that I’ve NOW accepted caused me a lot of problems in my past when I couldn’t.
I’ll also discuss my family life at a later date.
I can discuss my writing history, my education history molded by my nature, EMBARRASSING RELIGIOUS beliefs (if I can POSSIBLY remember them all), space walks, and EXTREMELY elaborate analysis of my past as experienced through my nature (it could take up novels), I’d like to AVOID the PAINFUL memories, which were usually my fault, and I’ll try to explain things that I’ve never tried to EXPLAIN before because of my anxiety and my lack of desire to deal with people, including deferring to them instead of standing up to them, as well as my analysis of the biggest people that I hate that caused the most damage to me. THAT will be difficult.
I can discuss elementary school; peer histories; lesson plan histories; gifts that teachers gave to me when the school year ended and why I wanted them; why my life is as it is today; fears from my past, explaining my personality (I have had an IMPOSSIBLE time explaining my desires to others, dealing with criticism of these desires, UNDERSTANDING them as well as explaining why I don’t listen to particular pieces of advice anymore (I don’t care what you have to say, and I’ll explain why); experiences with religious people; how my love for the offensive came into being; why I don’t like to read fiction and why I like to write it anyway; extended family memories; learning how to swim; family stories; memories of things being bought around the house and changes; toys; toys in the bathtub, bubble baths, McDonald’s, noticing the relationships behind how different parents parent differently, and philosophically wondering why and how these differences exist (as a kid); my intellectual history as a child, including what was said about me, what I thought, and what my favorite things to do were; my earliest memories; childhood fears; trying to explain the most intelligent aspects of my brain; why my personality is how it is today; why I like doing some things and not others; smells and the memories attached to them; what I thought about through all of my school years; reorganizations of the house; what I’ve been told about family from various people; my history with animals, board games, and video games; things that I don’t like to do, things that I’m not GOOD at, and WHY; ALL of my INFINITE repressions……………………………………………………………..
And here, I must stop for the sake of publishing, AND to keep from remembering my infinite repressions, because I don’t have infinite time (I should discuss my history with acting, movies and plays as well) and I could spend years writing this, but I can ALWAYS add more pieces to it later and the more I publish, the better chances I have of becoming professional (I’ll explain my professional theories later).
There’s too many things to get them all, but I have a reason for doing this, as you’ll read soon.
I truly hate this piece coming to an end, because I am SO forgetful and I CHERISH moments like this (I can never remember when I want to, and I’m afraid of forgetting my memories) and I am happy when they come.
I want to explain my history with science, with teachers, with school lunches and P.E., and my music history, and recess, and getting into trouble with teachers.
Saying prayers before bed, nightlights, cribs and bunkbeds. Cleaning rooms, cleaning the house, washing dishes, mom cooking dinner.
My history with puberty.
I GREATLY want to remember my previous thought processes. If I could ever put them into words, you would be blown away.
Growth is inevitable, and I’m growing through my past troubles AND my current ones.
I basically want to discuss ALL of my memories that I could POSSIBLY remember, but I don’t have time or space for this piece (I don’t think I would have written this if I had a photographic memory, for reasons that I discussed earlier, which is why I value spontaneity in my work, which I’ll discuss later).
That being said, I SADLY will end it now while it stirs through my brain, and I wonder why about everything.
This piece is not finished, but it also is, and I’ll explain why I do this with pieces at a later date.
But I REALLY want to write down this witty line before I forget it:
It’s AMAZING what you can remember from walking on an old baseball field