In The Game

It’s All Star week in Kansas City. 

When all the gear weighs as much as the catcher and he waddles like the Michelin Man, you’re watching a baseball game among kids less than eight years old.  Crouching down behind home plate is a mechanical process that is difficult to reverse when the ball slips past an outstretched glove to the screen.  The shin guards are fastened on with buckles and Velcro.  Re-buckling and re-Velcroing occurs about twice per inning because buckles pop loose when small legs squat.  That is what it looked like when I watched my grandson play but things have changed a bit since the 1950’s. 

Sure, there was a chest protector and a catcher’s mask.  The old chest protector hung over the shoulders, was made of a dozen layers of cotton and canvas and had a short tail that was meant to cover your crotch.  Today there is a helmet under the straps of the mask and the cage is made of space age material that flexes when struck by a zinging foul ball.  Back then the cage was steel and sometimes the spokes of the cage worked their way through the cushioned leather circle that went from forehead to chin and hugged each cheek. 

Instead of a helmet, a catcher just turned his cap around with its bill covering the back of his neck.  Shin guards – well not every team had them and almost none were small enough for eight-year-old legs.  Those were the days when the shoes baseball players wore got their name – they were called spikes.  A good choice since those shoes had spikes made of steel – sharp, half-inch, curved and attached to the shoe for traction.  They were meant for speed on the infield dirt and to intimidate second basemen and catchers when the runner was sliding. 

When young boys gathered to play baseball, catcher was a position shunned by the skill players.  Not much glory went to catchers whose primary responsibility was to get the ball back to the star on the pitcher’s mound or to block the plate when a runner was sliding home with his spikes in the air.  Even the modest gear was hot, heavy, and smelled like sweaty dust.  It was rare when a kid asked to play catcher.

Playing catcher was relegated to kids who were too heavy or too slow to play the infield, the outfield or pitch.  He was a first tier backstop and expected to interrupt the flow of the game as little as possible.  I was catcher.  My brother was a pitcher and a first baseman – the most important trait of first basemen was they had to be left handed – Gerry was left handed at first base and a southpaw on the mound.

With All-Star week in full swing and all the old timers in town, professional catchers should be seen differently than the cast off spot in the game kids play.  Andy Griffith, who recently passed away, was credited with saying that he always enjoyed playing the straight man because he could be both in the play and watch the play at the same time.  So it is for catchers.  No one has a better view of the field nor plays a bigger part in the game.  

The catcher is the guy who touches the ball on nearly every pitch and doesn’t get pulled when he’s caught his limit of pitches.  He talks to the batters and cajoles the pitchers.  He is ever the diplomat, and sometimes the con man, trying to win favor from the umpire behind him.  A catcher participates in every conference on the mound where strategy is discussed or where a decision about where to have a beer after the game is made.  Every pitch is called by the catcher – a curve, a cutter, a fastball, a slider – up and in, low and away, on the fists or out of the zone.

Gerry went on to play in the 3 & 2 League for older boys and then into Ban Johnson ball and played on a couple of well financed amateur traveling teams whose names are lost to me.  My career as catcher ended with little leagues by the time I was twelve or so.  Why did I agree to play catcher?  I got to play the game my brother was good at.  It was the game my father listened to every day on the radio and talked about all through the off-season.  My great uncles were mostly Cub fans with one outlier who loved the White Sox – the banter made a boy want to be like the men.  It was the time when Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Henry Aaron, Willie Mays, Sandy Koufax, and more were boyhood heroes.

About the time I retired from baseball, I built my first crystal radio.  I spent hours in my room moving the little wire feeler across the crystal looking for a baseball game.  I had already become a life-long baseball fan.  Why did I agree to play catcher?  It was my way to get in the game!

--td