Add Feedback | Send this Article | Published 4/18/03

Graphic By: Matt Witherow

My fiancé, Jonelle Thackston, has an internship running the website of the Pulaski Blue Jays. The Pulaski Jays are a minor league team in the farm system of the Major League Toronto Blue Jays baseball team. Jonelle had asked me to help out with some graphics and photographs of the stadium. So I grabbed a camera and made my way to the Jay's stadium, Calfee Park. Calfee is a neat little ballpark. It was one of the first minor league stadiums built in the nation. I had the honor of having nearly free roam of the facility and took some great pictures. Then, out of nowhere, childhood fantasy took over.  

I pretended to take the legendary walk from bullpen to pitcher's mound. The stadium was empty and silent as I walked but once I hit the bright, green grass of the outfield, the sky dimmed and the bright stadium lights turned on. I stopped and was now wearing the uniform of my favorite baseball team, the Baltimore Orioles. The stands were filled with screaming fans, loud music, my other teammates watching me, and the announcer calling my name. I continued to run to the pitcher's mound where I met the catcher, who gave me the ball. I marveled at the sights and sounds. Then I focused on the batter.

A mean-looking one, he was. Big, probably should have been a boxer rather than a baseball player. He looked like he could hit bowling balls over the outfield fence. He stepped up to the plate and got ready for my pitch. I dug into the mound and felt the hard sphere made of leather, string, and cork in my hand. It was the top of the ninth, bases loaded. If I get this strikeout, we win the game. The pitcher before me already marked up three balls on Godzilla here so there is no room for error. I get the signal from the catcher and I throw. A screaming fastball flies past the big lug. He looks a bit angered that it got by him. My cap can't hold back the sweat.

The catcher signals for my second pitch. I throw and King Kong blasts the ball deep down the left field line. I watch as it goes over the fence- too far left. Foul ball. I breath a sigh of relief, but the slugger is hot with anger as he returns and sets up at the plate again. I feel like I am going to hyperventilate. I get the catcher's call. I prepare for the pitch and close my eyes. I open them and they fall onto the excited crowd in the stands.

I notice among them is my family, Jonelle, and especially my father with a look of pride in his eyes as he cheers me on. Suddenly I begin to recognize faces that I have seen before in books and heard about in stories. George Brett, Mickey Mantle, Cal Ripken Jr., Hank Aaron, and Ozzie Smith were there. Joe DiMaggio, Ty Cobb, Nolan Ryan, and even Babe Ruth were all in attendance looking on. I nodded in honor towards them all and then stared down the batter in front of me. I wound up and delivered my throw. The ball sailed towards the plate, the batter swung, and---

I suddenly woke up in empty Calfee Park again. I am sure if anyone saw me they would have called me a goofball right there and then  But it felt good. I never got a chance to play ball when I was younger. At that time I felt I really missed out on something special. Not only special to me, but to my father, to the legends of the field, and to the millions of people who love, play, and/or watch baseball. At that point, I decided to live the dream.

After graduation I will be moving to Charlottesville, Va., where I hope to join an adult baseball league. I really do not know how I will do or how long I will play. But living the dream has become something important in my life now. I might never be noticed by a major league scout and invited to play for big bucks; hell, I might not even be that good. But baseball isn't about the big bucks; it was never intended for that. It is about dreams. It is about how anyone can achieve their dreams. DiMaggio, Ruth, Ripken, they all were normal human beings like us. They followed their dreams. They became legends.