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Spring has always been my favorite time of year for many reasons, and not just because it’s no longer cold enough to go into hibernation. I love the sunshine that reappears from behind the wintry clouds. I love the frisky deer and songs of the birds. And I love baseball.
While I don’t watch the game with the same passion I did as a baseball card-collecting youngster, I still love the smell of freshly cut grass, the pop of a 90-mph fastball slamming in to a catcher’s mitt and the sound of a chunk of wood colliding with a cowhide sphere. To me, it will always be “America’s Game.”
The game is important enough that one of my most prized possessions is the little team trophy I received when I was 8 years old and played for Resume House. The bat on the trophy was quickly broken, as is the custom of boys, but the awe I remember when it was first handed to me I’ll never forget.
I learned to love baseball not just by playing it every day, but by learning the history of the game. Reading Lou Gehrig’s biography taught me the value of a strong work ethic, which he demonstrated by playing in 2,130 consecutive games. Reading Satchel Paige’s story taught me that white people weren’t the only ones who could play at the highest level before Jackie Robinson came along. And reading a book about the 1969 Miracle Mets made me believe anything was possible.
Unfortunately, not everyone has the same experience on the ballfield.
Today, there are three baseball hats on my desk at the office. One is the Murphy High School hat I wore while playing for the Bulldogs in 1982; it’s a minor miracle that it’s still in one piece. The second one is a more recent Dogs cap to complete the time warp. The third one is from a Minnesota Twins’ minor league team back in the 1970s and feels somewhat out of place, considering I’m a longtime Atlanta Braves fan.
Greg Field gave me that cap in 1978, when his sister and my mom worked together at Cartier Realty in south Florida. Greg had made it to AAA – Major League Baseball’s top minor league level – in only four seasons, and he was stoked for the future. Naturally, I picked his brain about everything from throwing a slider to properly fielding bunts when he was home for the winter.
In 1984, at only age 27, Field left the game despite an overall record of 74-68 with an ERA of 3.86 and 54 complete games. He had some good seasons, but it was never enough to get him a cup of coffee in the big leagues. His hat is a reminder that even if you want something more than anything else in the world, sometimes that’s still not enough.
Former Murphy High standout Michael Curry has a similar story after being drafted in the 16th round by the San Diego Padres in 2018. The Cherokee Scout wrote a nice feature story about him on Aug. 4, 2021, showcasing his unique lifestyle living in an RV with his fiancee, moving from place to place in hopes of catching a lucky break at the right time.
That break never came, and Curry called it quits before last season after hitting 18 homers with 111 RBI and a batting average of .260 for his career. In a social media post, he explained why he could no longer waste his youth being passed over by lesser players while making less than $12,000 per year.
“It’s just upsetting to me that we compete our whole life just to get competition ripped from us at the highest level,” Curry wrote. “Professional baseball was a big disappointment for a kid with high hopes from the small town of Murphy.”
Despite the fact that the dollars involved in professional baseball don’t always make sense, folks like Field and Curry never quit loving the game even after retiring. Maybe they felt like the game just wasn’t loving them back enough.
In the meantime, the Braves still have another pennant to win. Players like Aaron Judge and Shohei Ohtani are capable of blowing our minds on any given night. As comedian Garrett Morris used to say on Saturday Night Live with a politically incorrect accent, “Baseball been berry, berry good to me.”
David Brown is publisher of the Cherokee Scout. You can reach him by phone, 837-5122; email, dbrown@cherokeescout.com; or on Twitter @daviddBstroh.