The tools of ignorance, indeed.

Good Afternoon All:

Sorry for the delay in writing the next post. It has been an eventful few days with my triumphant return home and a disappointing return to Hopkins after my body temperature crept just beyond the magic 100.4 (38 degrees celsius). I actually started writing this post from Hopkins but went home before I could finish. Warning: its a long one.

The vast majority of people who read my blogs know of my love for baseball and that I have continued to play the sport into adulthood though many may not know my position of choice. Ever since I figured out that my best chance to make the baseball team in High School was to learn to play catcher, I have declared to anyone who would listen that there is no better position on the field. When people learn of this they ask some pretty routine questions: "don't you get tired? and "isn't it bad for your knees?" are the most common.

Even baseball writers, pundits, and observers have differing takes on catching. As quickly as one announcer will call catcher one of the two 'thinking' positions on the field, another will label his gear (the helmet and mask, chest protector, shin guards and padded glove) 'the tools of ignorance'. One may call the catcher the captain of the defense and another will mockingly point out that he's the only player that is facing the wrong direction and the only player that doesn't even stand in fair territory.

Make no mistake, catching in baseball is not like beer league softball. It requires exertion and stamina with a measure of quickness of reflexes and thought. There is a reason why many players do not want to play catcher--it is toughand grimy. But decades of catching has left me with quite a bit. I have had a chance to reflect upon much of this while watching the early season baseball games.

Baseball, as a sport, requires that a player be able to manage his/her emotions. A player that remains excited for a previous good play or hit will often be humbled at their next opportunity. Similarly, a player that does not have faculty for 'forgetting' the bad plays or at bats are doomed to further failures. It is so true that it has become a sporting cliche--'you can't get too high or too low'.

When catching, your next opportunity comes with the next pitch--simply not enough time to stew over things or plot revenge. The catcher needs to get the pitcher settled, watch the batter, call the pitch that he believes will fool the batter, catch the ball and get it back to the pitcher. Lather, rinse, repeat--100+ times a game.

This has application in my current situation. I have learned to enjoy the good news when it comes my way but not to lose vigilance for the hand-washing that keeps the germs at bay. As a catcher I may enjoy the strikeout that my pitcher and I managed to orchestrate, but I cannot forget that there is still an out to get and runners on 1st and 3rd.

I also don't get too down when things don't seem to be going smoothly. Sulking, wallowing in self-pity, and yes guilt, all beget more misery. The ball in the dirt got by me and the runner on third scored. My fault. But the next pitch is coming in. If I don't catch this one the runner that advanced to second will be standing on third. A ball player's memory has to be short. How short is determined by when that next opportunity to perform comes--if I'm standing in the outfield it might be a while. Behind the plate, it is probably less than a minute.

I also believe that catching has tought me physical toughness. People talk about 'tough' individuals as if they inherited the 'toughness' gene. And maybe such a thing exists. I don't believe that it existed for me--I think I learned it when I started catching. The physicality of the position simply won't allow for someone to play it who cannot be tough. Squatting through long innings, allowing pitches that are thrown in the dirt to carrom off of your body in the name of making sure they don't get back to the backstop, inhaling dust for hours on a sweltering June afternoon are all parts of playing catcher that one needs to learn to enjoy. No one counts the number of throws a catcher makes as they count pitches for pitchers, yet for just about every pitch that comes in a throw goes back out to the pitcher. Foul balls tick off of a bat and hit you who-knows-where--I've had my throwing arm go limp for a couple of innings after a foul ball hit me just-so in the shoulder. Home plate is the only place where the fielder can block the runner from touching the base, as a result it is also the only place where a runner can charge through the fielder to knock him off his feet and the ball from his glove. All the while you are expected to think about what how your pitcher is throwing, what the current batter has done in previous at bats, and where the other players on defense are positioned. And there still has to be enough energy to swing the bat and run the bases when it is your turn . . . there is no better way to spend a spring afternoon! But the team counts on the catcher and so the bumps, bruises, turned ankles, sore knees/shoulders/back, are part of what you deal with and keep playing.

Enter cancer and some of the more difficult parts: spinal taps, bone marrow biopsies, and month-long hospital stays (oh my). I don't think that I could grunt and bear them for as long as I have had I never taken up catching. More than once now I have been asked during a 'procedure' if I am ok and more than once it has reminded me that the exact same question is asked of a catcher after a foul ball has hit him squarely in the face mask. As a patient I will say that I am OK--Yes it hurt, we all knew it would hurt but it is what I must endure to get better. As a catcher I will nod to indicate that I'm OK--often taking a shot off the mask truly does not hurt but can leave you feeling a bit dazed. The point is, whether it hurt or not is not the important question. What is important is whether you can continue on. Toughness allows you to continue on. I don't know how many of these cancer-related hardships I would have been equipped to tolerate had I not learned to tolerate quite a bit already. I can only imagine what quittingat this point would cost me.

Unfortunately I won't get to wear the catcher's gear this spring or the coming fall. But, in some respects I guess I always have it on.

As always, thanks for reading.

--Russ.