Skip to main content

A Catch With Dad

In this episode – A Catch With Dad . . .


On Thursday, August 12, 2021, Field of Dreams came to life for so many devoted fans of that movie and baseball.

Major League Baseball hosted a mid-summer game between the New York Yankees and the Chicago White Sox in Dyersville, Iowa, for the first time in its history.

The central theme of that movie hinged on father and son bonding – “having a catch.” This reminded me of a story I wrote in 2012 about my Dad. This week would have been Dad's 89th birthday; he’s been gone for eight years.

My fondest baseball memories were not spring training or visiting a major league ballpark; it was not meeting a famous ballplayer. For me, it was learning to catch lighting; and field line drives with my Dad. Major League Baseball was always background noise from an old transistor radio tuned to 720 WGN Chicago as a youngster. Devoted fans chewed over the Chicago Cubs and St. Louis Cardinals in Cuba, Illinois.

For our family, baseball was something we participated in, not something we paid to watch. My father (everyone called him Doc) was an exceptional underhand fast-pitch softball pitcher for Cuba Merchants, a little-known team in Central Illinois. In those days, every small town had a team, and families gathered on the weekends at the local ball field.

After he enlisted in the Army, Dad was stationed at Fort Lee, Virginia. His commanding officer gave him two choices; tour (pitch) with the Army softball team or deploy overseas stationed in La Rochelle, France. Luckily for me, he chose France. There he met my mother, and they were married; in August of 1956, I made my appearance, and after his tour of duty, he moved the family back to Cuba, Illinois.

Once again, my Dad resumed his craft as a pitcher for a local softball team. As the oldest son, my job was to help Dad warm up for a game. We called it burnout; he threw the ball fast and hard, with pinpoint control.

He would tell me, “You ready - this one is going to curve; stay in front of the ball." It would completely drop off the table or spin away to the left or right; sometimes, the ball would approach in slow motion. He could even make the ball rise, fooled batters every time. I could hear the ball whiz, then a loud clap of thunder as it smacked my glove. "Boy, that one stung," shaking off the pain between pitches.

The local teams always wanted Doc to pitch for them. So, we attended ballgames, home games, city and county, and in 1966, his team won the state championship.

However, it was not just my Dad that played ball; my brothers and I also played daily in the summer. We played ball with the local neighbor kids. During our scrappy yard games, the Heller boys tuned their portable transistor radio to the Cubs on WGN. We imitated Cubs players at bat. Ernie Banks, Ron Santo, and Billy Williams were always favorites.

We joined the little league. And yes, Dad tried to teach us to pitch with absolutely no repeatable results. Strong arms, but no control. We were horrible. But, because of our daily burnout sessions, we could catch and field the ball like a pro. There was no fear; when you’re used to having a softball hurled at you between 60-70 miles an hour, you learn to catch it - or watch out!

During little league, my position was a shortstop; I could stab a line drive with the best of them. There were games the coach played me at first base. I would dive for the wild throws; Dad always said, "Stay in front of the ball." Nothing got by me.

So, baseball was our pastime. Not as couch potatoes but as excited participants in the game. As kids, we never make it to a Major League Ballpark. My fathers’ first visit to a major league park was Busch Stadium in 1998. It was the Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa home run chase to catch Roger Maris.

We were there during that historic season; (Dad, Ronnie, Rodger, and me); we leaped from our seats when McGuire hit number 63 that night. Of course, Rodger was absent from his seat most of the game. When he finally returned, “Where have you been,” asked Dad. “Hanging out in Big Mac Land, trying to catch a home run ball,” but that’s another story.

Whether or not you’re a baseball fan, check out the movie Field of Dreams. And if you still have the opportunity, have a catch with your Dad.

I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Updated - August 8, 2023

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Truth for Sale

This episode is inspired  by Elton John & Bernie Taupin On Memorial Day, I took my first bike ride  since the accident , seeking proof that my legs, lungs, and nerves still remembered the road. The morning air carried that familiar Southern California mix of ocean haze, exhaust, eucalyptus, and sun-baked asphalt. My tires hummed across pavement I’ve ridden for years. Somewhere between the steady click of the chain and the rhythm of my breathing, Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s The Captain and the Kid found its way into my ears. There’s a strange kind of magic when the cadence of a ride syncs perfectly with a song you know by heart. Suddenly, the music and lyrics stop being background noise and become a lens. And through that lens, the road started talking. I've been cycling on this road some, Can't help feeling I've been showing my friends around. I've seen it grow from next to nothing, To a giant eatin’ up our town. Called up the tealeaves and the tarots, Asked the...

Epictetus, Ego, and Acronyms

In this episode, Destroy Communication, One Three-Letter Acronym at a Time This week, I want to explore a deeply relatable, universally feared workplace character: the "know-it-all." Now, I’m not pointing fingers here. If we are being completely honest, we have all played this role. We've all uttered some version of, "Yes, absolutely, that aligns with our strategic objectives," while our internal monologue is screaming, "I don't even know what the objective is, let alone the strategy." What got me thinking about this was a chapter in Ryan Holiday's book, Wisdom Takes Work . Holiday leans on a powerful piece of Stoic truth from the ancient philosopher Epictetus: "It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows." It's a brilliant quote that strikes right at the heart of the human ego. You can't learn what you already know, and you certainly can't learn what you pretend to know to save face. Though to be ...

Breaking the Script

In this episode, The Art of the Short-Circuit. We spend a surprising amount of our lives on conversational autopilot. You see it everywhere. At the hardware store. At the post office. In office hallways, where two people can exchange greetings, discuss the weather, and continue on their way without either one actually hearing what the other said. "How are you?” "Good. You?” “Busy." “Yep." It's less of a conversation and more of a system check. Most of us aren't being rude. We're just moving fast. We have emails to answer, meetings to attend, errands to run, and a hundred other things competing for our attention. Before long, our interactions become little more than verbal lane markers helping us navigate the day. I like to break the script. When I run into someone, instead of the usual greetings, I'll ask: "What's the good word?” The reaction is almost always worth it. You can practically see the gears stop turning. People pause. They blink....

That Fateful Four-Letter Word

In this episode, A Masterclass in Efficiency. For nearly four months, the western border of our property has stood as a living monument to determination, dubious planning, and forensic-level lumber acquisition. Since February, our neighbor Steve has been conducting what can only be described as a masterclass in deliberate calculation. This was never going to be one of those slick home-improvement shows where a cheerful pair of men installs a fence between commercial breaks, sipping lemonade. No. This was real life in retirement. We scaled the vertical wilderness of our hillside. We mixed concrete with the precision of medieval alchemists. We bled, we sweated, and we fought hand-to-hand with a buried tree stump that had the structural integrity of a Cold War bunker. By this week—May 16th, for those keeping score—the glorious end was finally within reach. The fence stood proudly, the line was straight, and victory practically hummed in the air. Only one major task remained: installing t...