Emotional Trip Down Memory Lane

About a year ago I wrote in my column about the arrival of a special gift from my catcher from back in the Babe Ruth League All-Star days. When Ron sent me the catcher’s mitt that he caught my no-hitter with it brought tears to my eyes.

I received a note from Ron recently that once again brought tears to my eyes. A pitcher and catcher develop a bond that can never be broken. Ron proved how strong that bond is with what he wrote.

It was quite a long note so I will paraphrase some of what he said:

“Good Day My Friend,

I have to tell you this story since you played a major part in it today.

Yesterday I went to the Kenny Chesney concert in the MetLife Stadium and did a bit too much tailgating. So today, I had no energy to do what I had planned, so I decided to pass the time away by taking a ride to third ward park.”

Ron described how he parked at the railroad station that sat above the field and how he maneuvered in his wheelchair to where Tom Saba, our favorite hot dog vendor parked his truck. Earlier in the year, Ron had a leg amputated after years of problems. He is now in the chair full time. He related how he made his way down the long street to the road that led to the park. He recalled the sights and sounds of our teen years; the basketball hitting the chain nets and watching Rubin Hurricane Carter and John Artis playing handball against the wall. “Little did we know what was in store for those two.”

..” I looked for the water fountain where we had so many water balloon fights and remembered putting our fingers on the spout and squirting everyone, but there were no water fountains. I glanced over at the stone wall that was about 10 feet high and I remembered so many times scaling it to retrieve a foul ball.”

Ron said he headed for the field and was hesitant to approach it. He maneuvered up the hill in his chair and sat behind the backstop and gazed out at the field; a view he had most of his days as a player, except then it was from behind the plate. He recalled coaches shouting out directions and teammates of long ago. “I just sat there in my chair behind the backstop and gazed out. Of course, you are now on the mound. I am reliving those days, American Legion ball, Ken Kurnath screaming out directions, Little Bigger League. What memories.”

Then he did exactly what I did in 2011 when I visited that same field. He took his position. ”Then I had to do it. In my wheelchair, I took my position behind the plate and I stared out at you on the mound; 60 ft. 6 inches, which seemed so far away back then, but now it seemed you were right on top of me. I flashed a few signs out to you and remembered the ump, yelling “strike three!!” I remember you yelling at me because I was throwing the ball back to you too hard. I remembered the curveball. It was a day today like back then; hot, and we had on those old wool uniforms and you and I were drenched in sweat.”

Ron pictured us at-bat and him at the plate and recalled his one home run over the 323 ft. sign. Then he did what every ballplayer would do. “Then I said, “I have to do it.” “I turned the wheelchair and headed to first, rounded first, and headed to second.”

He must have been a sight, the only person in the park on a Sunday afternoon rounding the bases in a wheelchair.

“…as I round third headed for home and I stopped halfway down the base path as I began to feel my eyes fill with tears. ...halfway to home, I said to myself that this is probably the last time in my life that I will be on that field, I looked at the mound, thought of you, and said I am not going to complete the circuit and I turned the chair and headed for the fenced area where the teams sat…I looked back remembering my dad sitting in the grass for every game, paying for the umps when the team had no money.

I then headed back to the train station where I parked, mentally exhausted.”

As you can see Ron’s trip around the bases was an emotional one and it was a trip that I took with him every step of the way, making sure that we hit the inside corner of the base, just like we were taught.

These are the memories of two boys “with a ball and a dream”.

Stay well my friend; we’ll be in the lineup together again someday.