It is February and soon pitchers and catchers will show up for spring training. Along with Dan Shaughnessy and others, my sons and I will assess the possibilities this coming year for my beloved Redsox.

Baseball has been a part of my life since I don’t know how long. I can’t remember when I first got into baseball but I remember my first glove. An Early Wynn model. My Dad gave it to me and we would spend time in our backyard like so many fathers and sons do playing catch.

I missed an important opportunity once because I was too young. We had a cottage for a week at Lake Henry in the Poconos. A nice old man was in the cottage next door. My Dad told me his name was Steve O’Neil and that he had played baseball. How I wish I had a time machine and go back to talk with this catcher for the Cleveland Indians. What was Tris Speaker like? Or Smoky Joe Wood? And what was it like the day your friend Roy Chapman got killed?

I never played organized ball. The Green Ridge Little League was the one all my friends played in. But I was ineligible. I lived one block over the boundary between Scranton and Dunmore. And so I contented myself with sandlot baseball. We would come together at a place called Maloney Field. We’d put out rocks for bases and play. Sometimes we’d have enough for a regular game. Sometimes not.

Similarly I would spend hours in my backyard bouncing a rubber ball off of the garage door or the second floor. I’d dive to field the grounders. I’d leave my cap loosely on my head so that it would fly off as I chased a fly ball. I wanted to look like Willie Mays at the Polo Grounds.

In sixth grade we actually formed a real school team. We made hats which were red and white and had the letters SC on them. St. Clare’s. We would play some of the other Catholic school in the area, those being the days when there were lots of them.

One of the high points of my youthful love of baseball involved Jimmy Piersall. Jimmy played for the Redsox and had played for the minor league Scranton Redsox. As such, when a secretary at the truckig comanpny where my Dad worked was getting married, he told me that Jimmy Piersall would be there. Did I want my dad to get his autograph? I rushed into my room and quickly found Jimmy’s card in my extensive Topps baseball card collection. After the wedding, my Dad returned not only with the Topps card but with a second publicity card. Both were signed “Your pal, Jimmy Piersall”. My Pal? I was pals with a real ballplayer!

It turns out that my Mom was a bit of a baseball fan. Thus, on a cold autumn afternoon after I had run home from school. she joined me to watch Bill Mazeroski win the World Series with what is still for me the greatest home run I’ve ever seen.

In 1961 my Dad graciously took me to Yankee Stadium to see Jimmy play. By then, he was with the Cleveland Indians. It turned out that not only did I see Jimmy play but that I also saw Roger Maris hit his 56th of 61 home runs.

Then I began to drift away from baseball. Oh I took note of such events as Sandy Koufax retiring or the Mets winning the Series or Roberto Clemente’s death. But I didn’t follow it with enthusiasm. Little did I know the role baseball played when I needed to rediscover baseball.

My interest started to renew with the 1975 World Series. I was stationed at Ft. Sam Houston and had noticed a Series game on a store televison.I put the game on when we got home and stayed to see the second-greatest homerun of all time–Carlton Fisk’s game winner.

In around 1980 I took my son Matthew to his first Major League game in Philadelphia. I still remember him walking out of the tunnel and seeing the field for the first time. He stood there and could only say “Wow!” What a moment that is! To see a Major League field for the first time!

I became clean and sober on June 2 1983. One year later I was glad I was sober. But my life was tepid. I had heard the phrase “Fake it ’til you make it.” I concluded that I lacked enthusiasm. So I decided I would pretend to be enthused. But about what? I knew it couldn’t be anything like world peace or poverty. I had recently been in a production of Golden Pond when the main character bemoans the fate of the Detroit Tigers. “That’s it” I thought. I’ll be enthused about baseball.

But you can’t just be enthused about baseball. You have to root for a specific team. After some reflection, I realized that it had to be the Boston Redsox. There was the Scranton Redsox farm team. Jimmy Piersall’s autograph. And my Uncle Joe whom I really loved was a rabid Redsox fan. So the Redsox it was! I went out and bought a Redsox cap and a new glove. I started reading the sports page, cursing when the Redsox lost, cheering when they won. It worked. My love of baseball and the Redsox has become a part of my life and that of all my family.

Since I’ve reconnected with baseball, I’ve added to my list of great moments I have seen. All were on TV and included Pete Rose breaking Ty Cobb’s record, Cal Ripkin breaking Lou Gehrig’s record, and Ichiro breaking George Sisler’s record. Two other memories stands out.

In 1989 I was visiting my parents in Scranton and my Dad and I decided to drive up to the Baseball Hall of Fame. My Mom wasn’t going to go until I told her that Red Schoendienst had just been inducted. She was a great fan of Red’s and so she came along. I can picture her standing before Red’s plaque saying “Good for Red.” I also spotted her looking at one of the statistics for Nolan Ryan. I said “Mom, you know who Nolan Ryan is?” She was slighted offended. Looking over her glasses, she said “Of course I know who Nolan Ryan is!”

The other memory happened outside of Fenway Park. My wife, sons Ben and Matt and I were waiting outside for a ballpark tour to begin. Two men walked by and I said to my son Matt “That looks like Dave Roberts!” Dave is beloved in RedSox lore because of The Steal. His steal of second base in the 2004 league playoffs turned the tide from near loss to four victories in a row over the hated Yankees. I called out to him and he set down his bag and came over to shake my hand. We chatted briefly and he went on his way. Dave has gone on to great success as the manger of the Dodgers. I hope he never loses his down-to-earth approachability.

I could also write abut baseball literature but that is for another time. For now I’ll just say that if you want to see a piece of great writing, read John Updike’s article “Kid Bids Hub Adieu”.

Baseball has enriched my life, given me a bond with my children and grandchildren. It has helped me reclaim enthusiasm, a gift I do not have and that I admire in those who come by it naturally. It is after all a gift and a spiritual one at that. I hope you are blessed with that gift. If not, perhaps you can cultivate it as I did thanks to baseball.

In that spirit, I leave you with this great baseball song by John Fogerty

Reflection: About what are you enthused?