FOUL BALL!

Summer fades away too fast. As the days ever so perceptibly, become shorter on both ends, Autumn will begin to poke its head out onto the horizon. Before we know it school will starting for kids of all ages. There's already been a few college students who have arrived back into town to begin classes at SUNY Oswego in a couple of weeks.

I am actually a huge fan of the Fall. As the seasons begin to change, the humidity that lingers during the Summertime in Oswego softly drifts away. For some reason I become incredibly optimistic about the future of the Buffalo Bills at this time of year. This season they return to the field on Sunday, September 12, to square off against the hated Miami Dolphins, their biggest rival. Unfortunately, the last decade has put a real strain on the Bills fan base due to a lack of post season success that we had become accustomed to in the 1990's. Therefore, I am usually resigned to putting my eggs in the Yankees' basket in order to fulfill my hopes for a successful Fall sports season.

Baseball was the 1st sport that I was introduced to at an early age. I can remember being clad in Yankee gear in the late 1970's as early as the age of 3 years old. I can recall fond memories of having a simple game of catch with my Old Man in the yard. It was at that time when I grew to love the game and develop a passion for both watching and playing such a wonderful sport.

Much like many competitive sports, baseball is a great teaching tool for what life offers. Unlike today where everyone gets to bat and goes home with a trophy, when I played the game in my youth, we had winners and losers. The game taught us that life wasn't always fair, but if you worked hard, sometimes you'd earn the trophy that was handed out at the end of the season. My good friend, Dave Herring, a former Little League coach himself in the 90's, couldn't agree more with my feeling about the game today.

"A generation of pussies!" was his favorite way to describe the kids on the Elks Lodge. They didn't like to practice because it was too hard. Well cry me a friggin' river. How in the Hell do you think you are going to get better? I don't care if its a sport, an instrument, or academics. The only way you'll succeed in a particular field is through hard work, practice, and learning from your mistakes.


Dave called a special practice one morning on the day of a game. Of course the little brats objected, but tough noogies. And guess who threw batting practice. That's right, the coach. Now Dave claims to have held back with regards to his pitching velocity that morning. I was not personally in attendance for that practice, but I called immediate bullshit. I know in my heart he was bringing the heat. I suppose that was his best defense, in case some of the tree hugger parents caught wind that he was throwing at their kids.

Wouldn't you know it. After the toughest practice those pansies ever went through in their short lives, they came away with a sense of accomplishment and were sky high with confidence. Surprise, surprise, they kicked the ever living shit out of their feeble opponents that day. As a former member of a dominant Elks Lodge team of the mid 1980's, I couldn't have been prouder of the team that day. Although Dave moved on to bigger and better things shortly there after, it was good to know that the winning culture that existed in my day was on the path to restoration.

Baseball is often called a kid's game. Although some of my fondest childhood memories took place on the diamond at Breitbeck Park in Oswego, I still get a great deal of enjoyment out of watching the game today. And I'm not alone. People of all ages can be seen at the ballpark. As much as I enjoy traveling to Yankee Stadium in the Bronx, there's another team in my backyard that is a much more convenient trip. The Washington Nationals AAA team, the Chiefs, play their games at Alliance Bank Stadium in Syracuse, NY. The 45 minute drive from Oswego is much less taxing than driving to see the Yankees play in New York. Though the level of play isn't as great as the Major League's, the players at the minor league level are still quite talented. Besides, its also much more affordable to attend games in Syracuse.

I cannot count the amount of games that I've attended in Syracuse during my lifetime. One game in particular does stand out though. It took place nearly a decade ago, right about this time of the year. I went with a number of family members, including my older brother Kevin. He can be described as nothing short of a Yankee fanatic. And much like myself, he enjoyed playing the game of baseball as a child as well. He was clearly never as talented a player as I was, despite being my elder. Although he was a valuable asset to our teams, he never reached the all-star status which I enjoyed in my playing days. Unfortunately for him, that was the case in all of the sports we played growing up. It must have been difficult being overshadowed by his super star younger brother, but he turned out ok anyways.

Enough of me piling on Kevin though. When you hear what he did at one particular Chiefs game, you're gonna want to slap him yourself.

We arrived at the stadium a bit early. We wanted to leave ample time to scope out the ballpark food as well as slug down a couple of adult beverages. When we walked down to our seats I think everyone in our party was more than pleased. The late Summer sunshine had begun to wane and the lights were shining down on the Chiefs and the Toledo Mud Hens. We were seated about 7 rows off of the field on the 1st base line, right behind the home team's dugout. The seats were almost too close to the field. It was imperative that you pay crisp attention to each and every pitch. Otherwise, instead of chomping down on a bite of your nachos you might noshing on a piece of leather from a foul ball. That was of particular concern for myself because faces as beautiful as mine just don't come around that often.

The game started and the ballpark was quickly filled in with anxious fans. I remember thinking about moving down a row because there were a couple of vacant seats. It was only the first inning so I figured it was a good idea to wait. That turned out to be a smart choice. In the top of the second inning an elderly man came walking down the aisle. He seemed a bit confused until an usher stepped up and directed him to one of the empty seats in front of us.

Upon settling into his seat, he audibly took a deep breath, put his backpack and walking cane in the seat next to him, then gazed at the field. It was actually kind of refreshing to see an 80 year old man look like a seven year old boy, taking in his first live game. He looked so excited as he reached into his bag to grab the oldest baseball glove I've ever seen. I could tell his glove was ancient when I read his name, Yoda, stitched into the leather. I have no idea what he thought that glove was gonna do for him. As close as we were he never would have been able to react in time to a foul ball.

In the top of the fourth inning things in our section got rather interesting. The Mud Hens 3rd base prospect hit a towering fly ball that was zeroing in on our row. I made a valiant effort to lunge for the souvenir, but it was just out of my reach. Besides, with Kevin cowering in my direction, seeking protection from the missile that was charging back towards us, any chance I had of snatching the ball were diminished. Luckily for Kevin, and Yoda for that matter, the ball missed both of them. By chance the ball plopped right in the backpack that the old fella had placed in front of us innings earlier. However, before the poor guy could fish the ball out of his bag, someone was rifling through his possessions. That's right, Kevin grabbed the ball and held it up, saluting the crowd with his prize.

I can't tell you how embarrassing that shameful act was for my family. The old guy just turned around, almost waiting for Kevin to return the ball to its rightful owner, but to no avail.

"Give that back to him right now!" I exclaimed.

"What? I got that fair and square." was his feeble reply.

He knew he was wrong but refused to return the "stolen property". Even with an entire section of the ball park booing in his direction, Kevin kept the ball. I argued in favor of the man, stating:

"Look at that guy for God's sakes. He's on borrowed time as it is. He isn't likely to make it home without dropping dead. Do you think he's gonna have another chance at a foul ball from a pro baseball game ever again? I mean he's got one foot in the grave already. Give it back!"

Unfortunately, his hearing was much better than his reflexes for a gentleman of his experience. He heard everything I said to my brother. I'm not sure who he was more upset with at that point. Now all of a sudden I was the bad guy, and I was defending him.

To this day, the events that took place at the ball park that night are still a sore subject. A couple of years after that fateful night, Kevin asked me to be the best man at his wedding. With a sly grin I quickly accepted his request. For months I threatened to throw him under the bus during my best man's toast for his behavior. I decided the threat of embarrassing him was not worth ruining their special day. But now that he has been lulled into a false sense of security that I may have forgotten about his nasty deed, I'm glad to share it with you today. Feel free to bring it up to Kevin the next time you see him. I'm sure he will be glad to relive that moment.

Parachutes and Ladders

The rain-out date for our skydiving excursion has finally come and gone, but will not be soon forgotten. August 1st, 2010 will undoubtedly be one of the most memorable days of my life. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to accomplish something that I once thought I could never do. Fortunately the weather cooperated this time, in spite of Andrew's wife, Allison, doing a rain dance in the backyard on the eve of our voyage.

The morning of the jump was overcast so I tried not to get too amped up about the trip. I actually slept very well the night before because I was convinced that after 6 straight days of sunshine, our run of spectacular weather was sure to come to an end. I literally woke up one minute before the alarm on my clock radio was set to go off. Its a good thing I woke up at that point too. Its the same clock radio I've owned since college, and for some reason it never seemed to wake me up in time to make it to my classes back then. Which by the way was a shame. I loved every second of class time I could get back then so it was always a disappointment when I missed out on a quality opportunity to learn. I guess that's why I spent so much of my down time at the library in an attempt to make up for lost time.

Andrew made the call to Finger Lakes Skydiving early that morning. They said the weather was iffy, but they would make every attempt to get all six of our jumpers back down to the ground safely. Off we went on a pleasant drive to the Finger Lakes region. Its actually a beautiful area because its surrounded by a bunch wineries in every direction. Things really started to look up the closer we came to our destination. The sun began to peek through the clouds which was a sight for sore eyes. Although we had complete trust in Andrew's navigational skills, some of us became concerned with where we were headed. There didn't appear to be any direct route to get to the airport. We were traveling down what appeared to be some abandoned roads. All of a sudden it dawned on us that this could be a colossal set-up.

"Does it seem strange to anyone else that there's a $20 discount if you pay for your skydive in cash?" Tweetch asked.

I think that may have been the most nerve wracking point of the entire trip. It was at this time that everyone riding in our vehicle became very quiet. Quiet enough that you could subliminally hear the banjos warming up in the background. I think everybody started looking out the windows, waiting for a fleet of pickup trucks filled with Hillbillies to surround us, take all of our cash, and then steal all of our women. There was a collective sigh of relief when we saw the sign for Ovid International Airport.

When we got out of the car it seemed like everyone who worked there had just woke up. Most of the people there were moving pretty slowly. I guess the smoldering coals left behind by the previous night's bonfire outside should have been a clue that some of the employees had a long night. I wasn't too alarmed when I saw the empty 30 pack of Budweiser as well as wine bottle laying on the ground next to their tent. As long as the pilot was well rested we should be o.k. I mean how hard could it be to pull a rip-cord right? Hungover or not, I'm sure the instructors wanted to get two feet firmly planted on the ground too.

The first task of the day was to sign your life away, relieving Finger Lakes Skydivers from any liability. Although I had no issue with doing so, I had no idea how long that would take. It seemed like it took me as long to sign all of the required papers last Spring when I closed on my new house. And you should have seen one of the guys in the "scare video" we had to watch before we took off. I believe the guy on the tape was the person who created the idea for tandem parachutes. And yes, I said tape, in reference to the stacks of VCR cassettes that were strewn about the building. It wasn't exactly the most technologically advanced place I've ever visited. Anyways, this guy looked like he could have been in the band ZZ Top. His beard was so long it didn't fit on the TV screen. I have no issues with some one's outward appearance, but it was so distracting that I don't think anyone of us remembered one bit of the instructions he gave us.

After a brief run through, and I mean brief, we were paired together with one other person. I was to go 1st with Jerry. Andrew and his father Larry drew the next straw, followed by Kevin and Tweetch. The instructor Chris, who had taught our "class" went to go find my tandem jump instructor, Brett. As Chris and Brett were giving Jerry and I some final instruction, as well as getting us suited up, the rest of our party returned to our tailgating spot outside next to the runway.

Next we were escorted to the plane. Although I'm positive that the air craft was 100% safe, the thing looked like a 1976 AMC Gremlin with wings! Not the most comforting sight, but we all survived. Actually, the flight was great. It took about twenty minutes to reach our desired altitude of 10,500 feet, or approximately 2 miles in the air.

Jerry left the plane with Chris first so I was on deck. The hardest part for me was getting my feet out onto the HUGE step outside of the plane. Note the sarcasm. That step was about the size of a friggin' drink coaster in a bar. Once I was sitting in the ready position it was go time. All I can say is what a fucking ride. It was just short of 35 seconds of free fall at 120mph! The canopy ride to the ground was great as well. The view from up there was indescribable. Its one of the most incredible sights I've ever seen in my life.

I'm am proud to say I did not shit my pants. I may have peed a little, but nothing noticeable. I did bring a change of shorts but they were never needed. Although I went uninjured during my flight and landing, that can't be said for everyone in our party. There were no serious injuries to report. However, there were a couple of sore asses from the landing, and two of the guys, Tweetch and Kevin, landed on their "coin purses". Let's just say it was a good thing they didn't have any singing appearances in the near future. The octave at which they would have performed would have been undoubtedly higher.

After a fine meal at Red Newt Cellars winery in Hector, NY, we headed for home. The celebration continued for some of us at Greene's Ale House and Patz on the River upon arrival back into Oswego. However, there was a sobering moment during our stop at Greene's. After numerous text messages and a few phone calls, we were prompted to turn on the news. We looked up in time to see a story about a skydiving plane with six passengers, who had crashed about an hour away from where we jumped that day. There was one person critically injured, but expected to make a full recovery. The other five passengers were released rather quickly. It was kind of ironic and it did give a number of our friends and families a scare. Some of them were not aware of which airport we had gone to, or they had yet to hear from us that day. I guess that should have been enough to deter me from ever jumping again. NOT A CHANCE! I can't wait to go skydiving again as soon as possible. It was a bit pricey, but worth every nickel in my opinion.

I'd like to congratulate my Brothers in Flight, Kevin Brown, Tom Matweetcha, Jerry McManus, Andrew Heintz and Larry Heintz. I'd also like to give a special thanks to Jerry's wife Jeanne, for being one of the designated drivers and carting our drunk asses around. In addition, I'd also like to thank Allison and Mary Lou Heintz, the wives of Andrew and Larry, for their support from the ground, as they watched us drift back down to Planet Earth. It was truly one of the greatest days and experiences of my life.