The major league homerun derby for 2025 just ended. In reading about it, I was reminded of “back in the day.” I always dreamed of being a homerun hitter but it just wasn’t meant to be.
My memory went back to that magical spring and summer of ’61 when the neighborhood boys built a ballpark out of a discarded sand pit. For a baseball player, as I surely was that year, Spring always brings the smell of fresh cut grass, flowers blooming, the smell of leather from the glove (mitt in my case), the humming sound of one of Eddie Slaton’s fastballs hitting the corner of the plate and the smell of burnt wood caused by fouling off one of those Slaton fastballs.
It was a magical time of the year when we played baseball from sunrise to sunset. Play was only interrupted to run down the back alley to the little grocery store to buy our 6-cent bottle of coke and 5-cent bag of peanuts. As all young players of the day used to do, we poured the nuts into the coke and had our treat. Then back to the field for another round of homerun derby. We were the kids of La Guarde park. Others would drop by to challenge us but we were seldom beaten. It was our stadium. We built the diamond using rocks, paper bags or someone’s shirt for bases. We cleared the infield so we didn’t have to worry about a bad bounce hitting us in the eye. It was just big enough that those gargantuan homeruns hit by Eddie and Jeff Decker would only go to the road and not into someone’s living room.
Each day would end with comparing our stats with those of Mickey and Roger, sharing our newest crop of baseball cards, and savoring another coke and peanuts treat. I was never a power hitter, so homerun derby was a frustrating game for me to play. I spent most of my time chasing down other people’s bombs. Jeff, Eddie and Bruce Tidwell could “go yard” seemingly without effort. They were also blessed with speed, bullet throwing arms and magnets for gloves.
By the time we all made it to Pony League (age 13), I realized that I was the Pete Rose of the league. Jeff led the league one year in homeruns, Eddie led the league in everything else, and Bruce was a solid player. Of course, Roger Maris was the big winner in homeruns that year. But we at least tried to keep pace.
I became the only switch hitter in our league at 12 years old. It came easy for me and I was able to place the ball in certain situations to get hits off some of the best pitchers, including Eddie. My on-base-average and batting average was always among the best. But alas, if you can’t run, throw or catch, what good is it?
