Dat the Bat

It's a busy time of year. Northampton and Lehigh County political races are beginning to heat up, with campaign signs sprouting like weeds everywhere. Fundraisers, candidates' nights, mailers, news conferences, TV and newspaper ads are the new fertilizer. Because I blog mostly about the local stuff, I've been busy.

But something far more important than mere politics is going on right now. You won't read about it in any newspaper and it won't be featured on prime time television, but it's the most magical time of year for kids.

It's baseball time, baby.

It's when kids, dads and grandfathers discuss the important stuff - whether Dill are better than BBQ sunflower seeds - whether anyone will hit a ball over the fence - whether those dirty rats on the other team are using loaded bats. It's when kids get cool nicknames like "Dat the Bat" or "Harry Heat" or "K-Rod."

It's baseball time, baby.

It's when moms insist on visiting the dugout or running out onto the field when their baby gets hurt. That baby pretends to hate all the attention, while secretly loving it.

It's baseball time, baby.

It's a time when the worst player on a team can suddenly come to life and hit a double to win a game. Or when that same player magically catches a ball in fading daylight to end a rally. Fickle baseball gods care nothing about athletic prowess. They often reward the weak and humble the powerful.

It's baseball time, baby.

At last night's confrontation between the Northwest Bethlehem Mets and the Fountain Hill Bobals, a young man stepped up to the plate for Fountain Hill. Their coach told us from his spot at first base that this poor kid has been playing for years and has never had a hit. And now this poor kid was facing our ace pitcher, Harry the Heater, who swallows Jalapeno sunflower seeds whole without even blinking. He had just retired three batters with 11 pitches.

First pitch. Strike one.

Second pitch. Strike Two.

Third pitch. Whack! That ball soared over the third baseman's head and screamed into left field close to the foul line. Thanks to an overthrow, this slugger ended up on third base, having knocked in two runs. The game was suddenly tied. People were screaming. Mothers were running everywhere. Dads were all very proud. It's magic.

In our dugout, the coaches were actually happy for this kid, who was grinning from ear to ear. After the game was over, I congratulated this young man. He was still wearing the same smile. I'll see it in my sleep.

It's baseball time, baby.