Kicking the Ball Around (One Sixty-Two: Day 157)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day One Hundred Fifty-Seven: Jeff Francoeur, Texas Rangers

Chelsea is a bit of a free-swinger. When I toss this 5-year-old some pitches in our backyard, she doesn’t care if the ball is in the strike zone or not. She just rears back and unleashes a blur of yellow Wiffle-ball-bat motion. If she followed pro baseball, Chelsea might find a bit of herself in a hitter like Jeff Francoeur of the Rangers, who rarely sees a pitch he doesn’t like, and who has turned pitches far outside the strike zone into plenty of singles and doubles, as well as more than a few strikeouts.

But Chelsea knows nothing about Jeff Francoeur or the Texas Rangers. The thing is, the kid doesn’t really like baseball all that much. She and I have bonded over Play-Doh, as I’ve written before, but we don’t have major Daddy-daughter moments when we’re playing baseball in the backyard. We get some nice exercise for a few minutes, and then she gets bored and starts using the plastic bats as walking sticks for some make-believe hike through the yard. There’s no genetic handoff of baseball passion here.

Yesterday morning, though, Chelsea started a new sport. She strapped on some knee-high socks, a pair of shin guards and new cleats, then walked a few blocks to a neighborhood field for her first soccer practice. The verdict: She absolutely loved it. Chelsea kicked, she ran, she listened to her coach and she left the field feeling a bit like a jock. She walked with a little strut, and said she was looking forward to next week’s practice.

Later on in the day, we found ourselves in a dog park with our golden retriever, and Chelsea had located an old soccer ball that had been left there for the dogs to use. We began kicking it back and forth to each other, and you could tell after awhile that Chelsea was feeling the kind of visceral comfort that comes with doing something you really enjoy. She kicked, I kicked. She kicked, I kicked. Then she spoke.

“You know,” she said, “when I’m on the bus going to the Y after school, and we pass the school where you work, I always say ‘Hi, Daddy’s school.’ I say it to myself, not out loud. But I always say it.”

We chatted a bit more, and kept kicking the ball until dusk sent us home with the dog. When we got home, I helped my little girl clean the soccer and dog-park dirt off her body in the shower. But there was no wiping away the memory of our soccer time together.

It wasn’t a catch or a bit of batting practice that brought these words out of my daughter. Just a ratty old soccer ball, and a few moments of uninterrupted play. To say it made my day is an understatement. I think I’ll go shine her cleats.

Back to School (One Sixty-Two: Day 118)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day One Hundred Eighteen: Neftali Feliz, Texas Rangers

Staples has spiral notebooks for a penny apiece. Target will give you a pack of Crayola crayons for a quarter. Office Depot has boxes of ballpoint pens for a buck apiece.

You can try and look the other way, especially if your kid doesn’t start for another few weeks, but facts are facts: It’s back-to-school time. In some parts of the country, Semester One is already in session. It’s always a shock to the system for students, teachers and administrators, but the start of a new school year does carry with it all kinds of promise for individual learning, personal growth and fellowship. There’s really nothing like it.

It’s a marathon of education, and you have to prepare yourself for the long road ahead. Once it starts, you’ll find yourself learning more than you thought possible, and it comes at you in all kinds of ways – from book learning to literary journeys to lessons in social skills. It doesn’t always feel like fun, but school takes hold of our minds and maturity levels in a way that is both exhilarating and exhausting. By the time June rolls around, we feel like different people.

Neftali Feliz is 22 years old, an age at which many young Americans are graduating from college. But Feliz is a little different from most of us in that he can throw a baseball 100 miles an hour. Therefore, he is not following the traditional path of education. At age 18, Feliz was pitching in the minor leagues rather than for a college team. By age 21, he was a Texas Ranger. In 2010, Feliz’s first full year in the majors, he has saved 29 games for the Rangers and earned his first All-Star Game appearance.

The Rangers are soaring toward their first postseason appearance in more than a decade. And in the playoffs, you don’t win a lot of games by 10 runs. You often find yourself holding on by a thread, and you turn to your closer to bail you out in the end. So if the Rangers are leading the mighty New York Yankees 4-3 in a first-round playoff game, will Feliz be able to hold the lead amid the pressure? Last week, in two close games against New York in Texas, he experienced two different outcomes: In the first game, he pitched two dominant innings to pick up the win in extra innings, while in the second game he blew a ninth-inning lead to take the loss.

It’s been a very good year so far for Neftali Feliz. But school is about to begin for real as the pennant race heats up. There are still some things that this gifted young man has to learn. The question, of course, is how quickly he’ll learn, adjust, and grow. There’s no sale at Staples to cover that; it comes from within.

Head Games (One Sixty-Two: Day 89)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day Eighty-Nine: Justin Morneau, Minnesota Twins

Two years ago, I had a month-long spell of headaches that wouldn’t go away. I went for tests, and everything came up clear. I would imagine it was either allergy- or stress-related, as it gradually dissipated.

Pain in any part of our body is no fun at all, but pain in the head can be particularly stressful. In recent years, doctors and athletes have taken a much closer look at the problem of concussions in sports. The National Football League, in particular, has done some serious soul-searching in addressing the number and severity of concussions its athletes sustain. High school athletic groups, too, have focused more intently on the injuries our teen-agers experience when they take blows to the head.

Over on the baseball diamond, Justin Morneau was having an MVP season with the Minnesota Twins as the All-Star break approached earlier this month. Morneau’s 18 home runs, 56 runs batted in and .345 batting average placed him alongside Detroit’s Miguel Cabrera and Texas’ Josh Hamilton in a three-man quest for baseball’s first Triple Crown in 43 years.

And then Morneau took a knee to the head during a ballgame on July 7 while trying to break up a double play. He was diagnosed with a concussion, hasn’t played since, and missed the All-Star Game completely. Published reports state that he’s resting, seeing a specialist, and not yet ready to play ball again.

One can only hope that Morneau recovers from this injury, and that he is back at the head of the Twins’ offense quite soon. As for the sports world in general, may researchers continue to look for ways to protect our athletes from severe head injuries. Collisions with balls, turf, walls or other athletes are violent ones, and they can impact lives. When doctors recommend a rule change here or a thicker helmet there, it’s time for everyone to line up in support. A healthier playing field is always a more progressive one.

The Underappreciated Man: Tweet All About It (One Sixty-Two: Day 77)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day Seventy-Seven: Michael Young, Texas Rangers

This evening, we received news that Nick Swisher had been voted to the American League All-Star team in the increasingly popular fan vote to determine the final member of each league’s team. Swisher, who has a wildly popular Twitter account, spent part of this week actively promoting his cause via tweets. He edged out Boston’s Kevin Youkilis, who received a heavy dose of support from Red Sox Nation.

A little while later, ESPN broadcast the most-hyped free-agent signing announcement in the history of the world, in which LeBron James sat before Jim Gray, a group of youngsters and a VitaminWater vending machine to announce that he’ll be playing pro basketball for the Miami Heat this fall. LeBron’s announcement was broadcast via a one-hour special, which ESPN titled “The Decision.”

It was a day for self-promotion in sports. But what day isn’t? The potent combination of sports and electronic media in the 21st century has placed individual stars under the microscope more than ever before. Swisher and James, to their credit, seemed to be trying to maintain some humility in discussing their triumphs. But try as they may, they could not erase the fact that each had helped turn an event into a media frenzy.

Michael Young doesn’t do media frenzies. The Texas Rangers third baseman finished fourth in the American League fan vote, leaving him out of the midsummer classic for the first time since 2003. The Rangers certainly encouraged their fans to vote for Young. But the 33-year-old did not speak out on his own behalf.

And if anyone had a right to do so, it was this guy. No active major-league player has been as clutch in All-Star play as Michael Young, as he drove in the game-winning runs in both the 2006 and 2008 All-Star games. Young is a six-time All-Star, who at age 33 has more than 1,700 hits and a .302 career batting average. He rarely misses a game for Texas, and has agreed twice in his career to change positions when the Rangers asked. In 2004, he moved from second base to shortstop to accommodate Texas’s acquisition of Alfonso Soriano. Last year, months after winning a Gold Glove at shortstop, Young moved over to third to make room for the younger Elvis Andrus.

Humility may be hard to find in sports these days. But over in Arlington, Texas, the first-place Rangers have a healthy dose of it at third base. Michael Young may be the most underappreciated player of his generation. But he won’t tell you that. He won’t tweet it, either. Sometimes, just knowing for yourself is good enough.

It Works If You Work It (One Sixty-Two: Day 68)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day Sixty-Eight: Josh Hamilton, Texas Rangers

My father asked me, about a month ago, what was up with Josh Hamilton. The Texas Rangers outfielder was batting during a nationally televised game, and his numbers for the year were rather pedestrian.

“Isn’t he supposed to be this great player?” my dad asked.

Yes, I said, he is. But Hamilton had struggled with injuries over the past year, so I didn’t know if he was still hurt. Of course, my dad knew all about Hamilton’s recovery from substance abuse, and the reckless manner in which he nearly threw away his enormous talent in exchange for drugs and alcohol. My dad also knew about Hamilton’s courageous recovery from those life-threatening addictions. He knew about Hamilton’s big-league debut at age 26 with the Cincinnati Reds, followed a year later by his 32-homer, 130-RBI explosion in 2008 with the Texas Rangers. I also knew about Hamilton’s relapse early in 2009, and the immediate help he sought after falling off the wagon.

So as Hamilton stood at bat early in his fourth season, my dad wanted to know if Hamilton’s one great year was an aberration. Was the former No. 1 draft pick really as good as those numbers revealed? My dad asked this in late May, at a time when Hamilton had fewer than 10 home runs on the year, about 25 runs batted in, and a batting average well below .300. All fine, but nothing special.

And then the calendar turned. June has been a little different for Josh Hamilton. We’ve still got two days left, but already Hamilton has locked up the honors for American League player of the month. His numbers are staggering: nine home runs, 30 RBI, 47 hits, a .470 batting average and a 21-game hitting streak.

And you talk about a most valuable player – in games in which the Rangers win, Hamilton is hitting .404 with 15 home runs. In games in which they lose, he’s hitting .248 with three homers. So far, it’s been more wins than losses for the Rangers, who lead their division by 4½ games. When the All-Star Game is played in a couple of weeks, Hamilton will be there, for a third straight season.

It’s always exciting to see a gifted athlete perform at his highest level. Right now in Arlington, Texas, the Rangers are watching a 29-year-old man play baseball better than anyone who has ever worn the Rangers uniform. This man has been scarred by the demons of his past. Those demons beat him up badly, and left him empty and alone. And then, even after he’d written a book about his inspiring recovery, those demons got him again. But once more, he got back up.

Scarred, yes. Humbled, indeed. But not slain. Josh Hamilton is still standing. Standing and slugging.

So Dad, I think we know the answer to your question now. “Great” may be too mild a term. And “reborn” is probably too strong a term, despite the temptation to overdramatize Hamilton’s comebacks.

In the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, the men and women who attend AA meetings often close with these words: “Keep coming back; it works if you work it.” In terms of English grammar, this makes no sense. But in terms of recovery and wellness, it makes all the sense in the world.

Keep coming back, Josh. Keep working it. It’s working.

Breaking the Rules (One Sixty-Two: Day Three)

Writer’s note: This is the third in a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day Three: Vladimir Guerrero, Texas Rangers

Katie has a new art book, thanks to a generous Barnes & Noble gift card from her aunt and uncle. My 8-year-old has been reading the book almost every day for the past couple of weeks, and she keeps coming back to a two-page spread on Vincent van Gogh. She stares at the sunflowers and tells me how vivid the gold and yellow colors look to her. Together we read about Van Gogh’s use of texture, and how he’d apply his paints straight from the tube.

In Katie’s art classes, her teachers won’t be showing her how to paint directly from the tube anytime soon. They’ll hand her a paintbrush and show her how to do things the traditional way. She’ll follow the rules. In the same way, the boys and girls who learn to hit a baseball or softball are told to swing only at pitches that look like strikes. No need to try and hit something that’s outside your comfort zone.

But both painters and hitters are allowed to break the rules of their craft once they know what those rules are. If Van Gogh needed to use a paintbrush, he could do it in a heartbeat. He simply chose to think, and act, different. Over in Arlington, Texas, the Rangers’ designated hitter is a future Hall-of-Famer named Vladimir Guerrero. If you asked him to tell you whether a pitch is a strike or a ball, I’m sure Guerrero could tell you. But for the past 13 years, this right-handed slugger has made a living hitting baseballs that no one alive should be swinging at, much less hitting.

And my, does he hit them. Hits them hard, hits them far. Balls down at his shoe-tops. Balls up by his shoulders. Balls far outside. He lunges, he reaches, he hacks – and he hits. Guerrero has hit more than 400 home runs, more than 400 doubles, and nearly 2,300 total hits. So far. His lifetime batting average is .322. About the only thing Vlad doesn’t do much is walk. Of course, when you’re as busy as he is breaking the rules, there’s little reason to hold back that swing.

This winter, the word around baseball was that Guerrero was too old and out of shape to play well anymore. Going into today, he was hitting above .370. So the 35-year-old apparently has plenty left in that bat. To those who have watched him over the years, this was really no surprise.

One day eight years ago, I took a road trip to Montreal with my brother and some friends. Our goal was to catch a game at Olympic Stadium before the dome closed and the Expos left town. It was a bizarre old place, with enough eccentricities inside to have kept Van Gogh busy for years. Early in the game, Vladimir Guerrero stepped up to bat; at the time, he was Montreal’s best player. As a pitch arrived, Vlad took one of his legendary full-body hacks, and wood made violent contact with rawhide. The ball flew up – higher, higher, higher – until, finally, it bounced off the white roof of the dome.

In Olympic Stadium, the roof was fair play. The ball careened of the padding above us, then landed somewhere between shortstop and left field. Guerrero trotted into second base with a double. They were breaking rules all over the place, and the fans loved it.

There’s plenty of texture left on Vladimir Guerrero’s canvas. Just don’t force him to paint with a brush.