I Dig the Home Run
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by user Andersed
Even though I love small-ball, and can't think of anything more beautiful than a perfectly executed hit and run, the home run has a certain allure. This allure is twofold: it captures me as both a fan and a player. I pride myself on hitting line drives, while homers often have little to do with winning. Ask the mid 90s Colorado Rockies (and Dante Bichette or Ellis Burks) about that.
For instance, my high school baseball team hit one home run all season, in 23 games. We went 14-9 and lost that game 17-3 after going up 3-0 on the homer. We've scored runs with relative ease and have had many strings of doubles. But homers? One (barely) that was quickly forgotten.
Of course, nearby Jackson High School, which went undefeated, won the state title, and finished ranked 2nd in the country by Baseball America, hit eight homers IN ONE GAME. Travis Snider, who was drafted 14th by the Toronto Blue Jays, hit ten this year. Last summer, he played for my high school coach, who said he hit over 20 homers.
Despite all of the (school record-setting) success that my high school enjoyed this year, I still want to hit a home run. A bomb in high school varsity competition would've remained one of my hallmark athletic achievements of all time. With my stature, homers aren't likely. Last year I hit only one double, even.
Legs and aluminum bats are my one hope for hitting hom eruns over the fence. An inside-the-parker might be a possibility, but that's a different exhiliration altogether.
I want to trot around first base, pound the coach's fist, and watch as my majestic shot flies over the left-field fence. I want to touch second as the other team's middle infielders sift dirt and look at their feet. I want to round third and see teammates waiting expectantly at the plate, for once not having to yell "Up" or "Down" as I charge toward home. I want to touch the plateand incite even a small crowd to cheers. I want to give everyone in the dugout big high fives. I want glory, basically.
There's a singular feeling that goes with a home run. My dad and I would take batting practice together on local fields just for the experience of hitting homers, even if it meant a long pick-up process. I know that I hit homers in T-ball and coach pitch, but I can't remember the specifics.
So I went dry this year, which disappointed me. Hitting a homer sometime would give me a story to tell my grandchildren beyond the time where I accidentally dripped snot in my then-girlfriend's eye.
Perhaps I have a Napoleon complex. Baseball is my favorite sport to watch, analyze, and play, so hitting a homer would somehow legitimize me, I feel. I'm probably wrong. But I know that I can hit one. Now I have four years of college to hit that elusive dinger.
Date
Sun 07/02/06, 1:40 am EST
