Category: Opinion

28 April 2015 by Rob Jones

The Return of the Native

It’s hard to express how much my legs hurt on Monday morning. A body this old and ill-prepared struggles with 6 hours of baseball on a Sunday. But there was a smile in my heart, writes Rob Jones, with aching fingers.

And maybe that sums up the feelings which this game can bring to you. It was my first game of 2015, my first time this year on a diamond. The first real pitch I have faced. A few sessions in sports halls do little to prepare you for the reality. And I have made an extra effort this year — in order to compensate for the passing years — to try to stay fit, to try to stay strong. With little impact!

This game left me with a bruised thigh, a bloodied finger, a grazed knee, a headache, and a dull stiffness in just about every bone and muscle I have.

Herts Raptors — Raptors in action against Redbacks, April 2015

Despite our resounding defeat by the Essex Redbacks, there were some good things to take from my day at shortstop. There were two or three grounders which went right through me when I should’ve stopped them, and that is extremely annoying. But I made some plays which I probably shouldn’t have — managing to somehow come up with the ball when it had been hit out both to my right and my left.

One line drive went inches from my flailing glove, another pop-up which I ought to have taken bounced out. Fortunately my last action of the day was safely catching a line drive to end an inning. It’s always a bonus when the day ends on a high note!

Overall, I was happier with how I picked up the ball than with how I threw it. Finding a range, and finding the right balance between “concentrating” and “over-thinking” is one of the skills which comes from repeated practice. Like most of us at this level, I don’t have that luxury.

The sport I often compare baseball to in my mind is golf. Admittedly, that sounds a little bizarre. But it’s because baseball is a game of technique, of muscle memory, of attempting precision in an unpredictable context. And because a round of golf can have maybe one or two shots that feel “yes, I really got that right”. And baseball is the same. You can make routine plays, you can miss really tough plays. But when you put it all together, that takes it to another level and the satisfaction is immense. And you may get only 1 or 2 moments like that in any game.

The was a Raptors team which showed a great spirit, relaxed but working hard too. There is energy there from young guys like Joe, Adam and Charlie, looking to make a big impression. And there were veterans returning too, with perspective and even a little wisdom. It was great for us veterans to have Paul Curtis back in uniform. As one of them remarked — to borrow another quote — we’re getting the band back together again.

I can’t complain about how my batting started out for the year. A double, then a single — both driven to the almost identical spot in right field! Then a walk. Followed by an easily stolen base (good point), which then turned in to me getting thrown out at third (bad point) when I tried to stretch it into an extra because the pitch had gone past the catcher. As a film might’ve once once said, “your mind’s writing cheques that your body can’t cash”.

By the end my old body was feeling the strain. The last comebacker I hit to the pitcher, and the last fading throw I made from shortstop to first base were the product of fatigue as much as anything (no disrespect either to the pitcher or the base runner!)

If only I could move my legs, I’d gladly do it all over again right now.

14 August 201414 August 2014 by Rob Jones

Catching a break

After a lifetime of clear vision, it’s a shock to see life from behind bars. But don’t worry, I haven’t finally been jailed for crimes against the English language. I have instead made my debut as a catcher, writes Rob Jones.

Let’s be honest, it’s hard to see from behind that mask. And it’s damned hard to move with all that extra armour, and that helmet. It’s distracting, especially for a skinny guy like me. Not every catcher is necessarily a beast, but even at single-A level they tend to be solid. I am an exception.

Andy Cornish catching — Herts’ own Andy Cornish in catching action

Hopefully more wearing of the “tools of ignorance” will help get me used to them. Because even after giving it a try, the idea still appeals to me.

Let me back up slightly and explain the context. This all happened one Saturday a couple of weeks ago, in a friendly game between the Herts Raptors and the development side being nurtured by the excellent London Mets club. The team is currently called the Mountaineers, though it doesn’t play league games. Yet.

Eye-opening

This was a chance for them to face an opponent in a real game setting, and for that opponent to be a genuine league team. For us, it was a chance to try some new things. For example, our centre fielder became a starting pitcher, the right fielder became a second baseman. And your correspondent — usually a jobbing infielder – became a catcher.

In the end it was for just one inning, as I am not the only player with designs on the job. But I’m glad I got in that one inning as it was eye-opening (and not just because that was the only way to see clearly!)

The armour does have a real impact on your movement. I had to tighten it all up to fit me, of course. But still the way it affects your speed and your flexibility surprised me. I felt like a racehorse confined in plaster casts, or perhaps as if I had been lightly dipped in concrete to perform my job.

Then there is the glove. I don’t doubt that there are excellent reasons for having a special glove. But it was another thing to get used to. Whenever I play first base I always do it with my own glove, a standard 12.5″ infielders glove. I just find that I am more used to it and more in tune with what it can do. So experiments with a first baseman’s glove are always short lived. With the catchers mitt, you have to persevere. I think I improved in the course of the inning I was there. But it will take more work.

The ball is in play…. always

There is also so much to think about. So much. When one ball got away from me and that mitt I failed to react for a second. And the base-runner took the chance to move up. Just as I would’ve done in his place. At any position you have to always remember that the ball is in play, but even more so as the catcher.

In theory, of course, I should be following the count, too. I’ve got much better at this sort of stuff over recent years (sometimes now, I even remember the score too!) But on one occasion I was caught out.

Baseball — The aching legs which only a catcher can know

The umpire said the count was full, but Greg who was pitching had correctly counted it to 2-2. He fired one down as he thought he could waste one more ball, and was surprised when the guy then walked. I needed to have helped him out at that point. It is something else to remember.

There are two reasons I wanted to try catching. First, it’s the one thing I have never done in a game. Secondly, I feel that my sporting background as a football goalkeeper will help me get my technique right to block stray balls. It took years of baseball before I “unlearned” the habit of getting my knees down and getting everything behind a ball. You simply don’t have time for that on the infield. But as a catcher I feel it would help save on pass balls. I still felt that was true after my one inning of work.

I don’t know how much I was able to put it into effect as I wrestled all the strange, fish out of water feelings that I have described above. But I think the only balls to get by were that one which I just dropped, and one more which I tried to block correctly but which still caromed off my shoulder.

I remember the difference the catcher can make for the pitcher from one of my experiences on the mound a couple of years back. The multi-talented Andy Cornish — who I don’t think even catches regularly now — was making a guest appearance for the Eagles when I pitched in relief. He was so effective in saving all those balls I put wide and in the dirt and I was very grateful — as I’m sure was the team.

The final thing to say about catching is that it is flat-out exhausting! The observant among you will recall that I only did one inning. In my defence I will say that it was the final inning of the game, and we had been going for a couple of hours by then. But I will freely admit that this was far more tiring than any other inning of the day.

Carrying round the extra weight, and constantly crouching down and jumping up, make a wicked combination. If you see me return from the off-season with chunky thighs and an enormous grille across my face you know that I have given in to the temptations of the catcher.

11 July 201411 July 2014 by Rob Jones

How to make the most of a mis-hit

Let’s not beat around the bush here, my batting so far this season has sucked, writes Rob Jones. It has sucked to high heaven. It has sucked so hard that it could probably suck a golf ball through a hose pipe. From six games, I think I have probably hit three balls well.

But I didn’t come here just to moan, or to have you agree with me about how much I suck, or even to have you assure me that I am great and that I shouldn’t worry. I mention my batting because the universal truth I take from it is a positive one, and it applies to all of you as well as to me: I can still make things happen.

Facing the London Musketeers, I think I registered one real hit. Otherwise I reached on errors, on confusion, on infield mishits, and on a walk. But I still scored three runs, a quarter of our total. Once I am on base, I can steal more bases. In those first games of theyear, I may have had one good hit, but it was equally important that I struck out only once (obviously I would argue that’s the umpire’s fault, but we all have to say that don’t we?)

This past week I was rung up 3 times in one game, which is extraordinary for me. Pretty bad, and certainly frustrating. Again I’ll blame it all on the umpire…. OK, it was a bit of me too. But even in that game I got more hits than anyone else on the team.

Even in a slump, or in a bad patch, we can still make sure that we are a tough out to get. Hustle up the line on every ball. Protect on every two-strike count. We may not be the most gifted athletes on the field, but we will do our damnedest to get on base, score runs and win games. There is enormous value in that.

The baseball gods

Of course, even as we go out and grab the game, it has ways of coming to grab us. You can get no action all game and then a big play to make. In my outfield days you would often find that to be true. It is less true on the infield, but still happens. In our home game against the London Musketeers I had a couple of routine plays at second base – a ground ball, a catch.

But in the final inning I had to move over to shortstop as we shuffled our players. Theoretically short should be the busier station. But in the top of the ninth I think four plays went to Clive, who had been brought in to man second for the first time in his nascent baseball career. Nothing at all came to me. Clive handled it all pretty well, securing one ground ball out and narrowly missing a second one.

I am pleased that he took it all in good spirits. It was a bit of a thankless task with the game on the line. But you cannot make the baseball gods smile on you. They do their own thing.

The thought of baseball this year has been an oasis in the desert of building dust which has covered my house. The Grand Designs nonsense has combined with the usual work and family commitments to keep me away, but for most of us baseball is a release from normal life — and that is only intensified the less you play.

Devotion

One week, I came agonisingly and absurdly close to a game. I had been due to play but those builders intervened, and so once we were sure of a full squad, I pulled out. However, I still had to drive to Haverhill to deliver the equipment, and to watch the team all suited up and throwing. That’s more like a torment than a release.

Admittedly, I can’t quite claim that such a folly of a trip showed my devotion to Herts. It showed as much about the fact that training had been rained off — when a more sensible sharing out of the equipment could have been accomplished — and my difficulty in juggling different needs to get the team and the bats in the same place. However, a bit of exaggeration never goes amiss. So I shall claim that the trip to Haverhill spoke volumes about my desire for any whiff of baseball.

This coming weekend we travel to Richmond, but work commitments mean I cannot take part. For some reason I love playing at Richmond. Some of my first friendly games were there, and I remember a couple of sun-drenched league epics there.

I actually missed a friendly there once, because we sat for so many hours in traffic on the South Circular that by the time we got there the game was nearly over. Once it was finished, everyone agreed to play some extra innings, but I was due to work a night shift so had to leave again without ever throwing a ball. Really, I should hate playing at Richmond!

This missed opportunity this week feels more poignant as chances for playing baseball are now slipping away for 2014. And it’s only July! Here’s hoping my final appearance will be a fitting finale — and that I will, at last, hit the ball properly.

15 May 201418 May 2014 by Rob Jones

Genesis and revelations

There have been big hits, infield dribblers and strikeouts; tag-outs, blown calls, and infield flies; late starts, rain and even sunburn. The season is only two weeks old but so far it has all the ingredients of a feast, writes Rob Jones. The Herts Raptors don’t yet have a win to show for it all but they have pretty much everything else.

The genesis of this blog, and its title Going Through the Change, was as I moved from outfield to infield. There’s always another change to go through, nothing stands still. This year I have finally moved officially into management.

My co-supremo Geoff has to do most of the work while I miss games and training as per usual — and while I oversee the wrecking and remodelling of my house — but it has been good to get another new perspective on the baseball experience. The drafting of players, the signing off of projects and purchases, and the week-long preparation of line-ups and locations. There’s an enormous amount goes into it.

Rob Jones on base against the London Marauders

One of the main reasons I have played Single-A these past few years is so that I can pass on to new players the hints and tips I have learned in a decade of experience. Very few of them are revelations, but I have found that fundamentals are crucially important in baseball and if I communicate that to people then I have done good work. So far that has been fun, and there is a lot more to do. If I can do more of it, that might help win some games!

We have new and enthusiastic players again this year, to add to those who did such good work as Eagles last year. It’s always great to see new players discovering the game and maybe scratching an itch they have had for years after seeing baseball on TV or watching their kids play. I’m in a good position to say you’re never too old, as I am already “mature” enough to be an Old Timer.

My co-manager Geoff Thomas has made an impeccable start to the season, and it has deserved more than the two losses which are shown by the bald staistics. Importantly for a manager he has cultivated a personal style, and can regularly be seen on the sidelines clutching a brolly. The first week it was to ward off the persistent rain, the second week it was for shade from the glaring Essex sun. Next week, who knows.

But one of the toughest challenges for a manager at this level is to share out playing time for all those who have paid their money and put in their time. Raptors have achieved an even spread of game time, and when Geoff did need to step in to the game at Brentwood he did so in style, with a double in his first at-bat. He added aggressive steals and runs to help take the team to within a whisker of a win. Leading from the front.

One of the Raptors success stories so far has been the outfield, which has been as solid as the rock of Gibraltar. Baseball rookies often start in the outfield, but it is wrong to think it is the safe or easy place for them. In previous years we have sometimes been unable to secure all the outs we should on fly balls, and this year our boys with the big gloves have been exceptional.

Of course, it is also an extra treat to have Joseph Osborne-Brade back in centerfield after a long layoff for a broken leg. But it wouldn’t be such a treat if he wasn’t making highlight-reel catches.

My own season has got off to a steady enough start. With the bat it’s been a bit rusty, with a string of infield hits helping to get my batting average to .500. I’ve not yet walked once, which is unusual for me, but I did manage to secure a big hit when it was most important. Leading off the ninth as we tried to rally past Brentwood I smacked a double, which became a triple as the fielder lost a battle with the outfield fence, and I then crossed home when an overthrow to third went dead. Run scored, job done.

Fielding felt good the first week at London, with two nearly-catches falling just out of reach, but other plays being made securely. When I entered the Brentwood game as a substitute my arm just would not wake up and I made a poor throw to first which could have ended a tough inning. The brain worked, just not the body. We made more mistakes than we had in week one, and I certainly take my bit of blame for those.

We made a memorable base-running error, too, which you can read about in the match report. But it had an extra element for us due to the revival of a dead language.

I can’t share too many details but suffice it to say the runner called for advice in Latin. It caused confusion and hilarity and ultimately embarrassment as he was tagged out. Our runner was using a sporting motto, but when I worked out what he meant I in fact did so because of my schoolboy Latin. My wife found this hilarious when I recounted the tale to her later. When was the last time you heard Latin used for a purpose at a baseball game? I don’t think the sport was well-established in Caesar’s day. He doesn’t know what he was missing.

Raptors return to action this weekend against the Kent Mariners, and all the same passion will be there, and the same dedication to doing things the right way. I already miss playing and on a summer evening like today it’s frustrating to not even be at training. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for the first win on Sunday.

NB: Thanks to the London Marauders for their fine photographs, and for making me look good in them.

4 November 201311 November 2013 by Rob Jones

The red flag and the green grass: Miliband and the Sox

Those of us who follow the game closely — and who even get lucky enough to play it once in a while — understand why baseball has secured its place in the public consciousness far beyond a mere sport. It has acquired mystique and enviable history over the course of years. But it has that because it has rhythm, it has poetry, and it speaks to people in ways which other pastimes cannot.

And so, when something special happens inside the world of baseball it even manages to spread to the outside world. And the UK noticed when the Boston Red Sox secured their third World Series in a decade.

At the centre of much of this was the leader of the Labour party, Ed Miliband. As the Sox prepared for the ultimately decisive game 6, Miliband used his obligatory Twitter feed to post a very optional message — “Great Red Sox win last night. Hope and expectation about Weds night. But bitter experience means us Red Sox fans can never be complacent”.

Daily Telegraph — Ed Miliband's support for the Red Sox discussed in the Telegraph

The response from the Conservatives was swift. They used their Twitter feed to accuse him of being “out of touch” for commenting on a baseball game when he would not comment on that day’s British economic figures.

Plenty of people on the Twitterverse hurled abuse his way, either for jumping on a popular cause, or for commenting on a geeky foreign sport. One wag who accused him of bandwagoning got this deeply sarcastic reply from another user: “I’m sure that was calculated for the big baseball vote”.

Debate was plentiful in the press in the ensuing days. The Spectator saw symbolism in the fact that the Sox are a rich team, who often cast themselves as underdogs. But The Telegraph’s Dan Hodges defended Mr Miliband, saying he preferred an honest baseball fan to a fake football fan, as many politicians are.

Undeterred by it all, Ed Miliband tweeted throughout Game 6, concluding thus in the small hours of the morning: “Amazing to see team I watched as kid find way to win with ease. Didn’t even put us through normal red sox agony.”

Rarely has baseball been such a central topic in British political debate.

What many people were seeing for the first time was that baseball is followed closely by lots of people in the UK, including many high profile — even respected — figures. The eminent historian Simon Schama is a big Red Sox fan from his days at Harvard. Similarly, the former controller of Radio 4, Mark Damazer — now Master of St Peter’s College, Oxford – is a devoted citizen of Red Sox Nation. The former Conservative party leader, Michael Howard, is a New York Mets fan, who once told me he flew out specially to watch the team’s final game at Shea Stadium.

And whatever criticism can be thrown at Ed Miliband, there was little disputing of the simple fact that he has been a Boston fan since spending time in the city with his academic father.

Who would have thought there was this great untapped, unseen well of affection for baseball? Well, most of us reading this knew it was out there. We are part of it. But it is good to see it emerge.

Herts Baseball Club is of course, entirely independent and has no political view. But if Mr Miliband wishes to support baseball, we wish him all the best. Should David Cameron declare a deep love for the Baltimore Orioles, say, we would wish him the best too. We know he has read a baseball book — The Art of Fielding — so who knows what is next?

Credit Tlumacki/Boston Globe — The B Strong logo at Fenway after Game 6 (photo: John Tlumacki/Boston Globe)

Of course, the other reason baseball took such a high profile this October is one which goes back to the poetry and symbolism we mentioned at the start. The 2013 Red Sox had become closely linked to the city’s recovery from the bomb attack on its marathon in the Spring. The team adopted the Boston Strong slogan, and David Ortiz gave a memorable and heartfelt speech to fans: “This is our f***ing city”.

The ragged glory of Boston’s team – bristling with ridiculous beards in a gesture of brotherhood — showed spirit as much as it showed sporting talent. And that helped the Sox to persist in an unlikely turnaround from worst to first. And spirit was what Boston wanted to see after it had seen tragedy.

John Tlumacki of the Boston Globe was at the scene of the marathon bombing and took one of the most defining photos of it — police officers, wreathed in smoke, standing over a fallen runner. He took more stunning images of the World Series triumph and said it was a magical moment as smoke from the fireworks lifted after the game to reveal the B Strong cut into the outfield grass. I include that image here — all rights, of course, remain with Mr Tlumacki and the Globe.

The New York Yankees did not win the World Series in 2001, which took place just weeks after 9/11. Perhaps they should have for a similar fairytale to be complete. But they were part of an extraordinary Series. And in 2013, Boston was able to have the final line written as if by Hollywood.

Both British and American journalists have celebrated and explained this moment in moving and insightful terms. And if Ed Miliband, or whoever else, feels it too, then they should feel free to talk about it. Just like the people of Boston, Herts believes in the power of baseball.

16 October 201328 October 2013 by Rob Jones

The baseball bonus: the Hunlock Series

It’s one of the moments in life that you rarely know about as it actually happens. It is not until later that it all becomes clear, writes Rob Jones. And, so, only now can I confirm that my final baseball activity of 2013 was lining out to the first baseman as the Blue Dogs went down to the Black Widows in the Hunlock Series.

You always want that moment to be a walkoff home run, or something similar, but as in much of life it is usually prosaic. During each season you notice the little milestones – I still remember scoring the first Raptors run of the season one year, and catching the ball for the final out in another — and together they build a bigger picture.

Hunlock Series action — Blue Dogs' Ben Marques grounds out in the battle against the Black Widows

I had hoped to be part of the final weekend of the Hunlock, the extravaganza of single-inning games, but rain washed it out and now I am back at work. So it’s over. And that lineout-cum-failed-flare was the final full stop.

The Hunlock Series is the club’s now traditional coda to the baseball season, fought between rejigged rosters of all the Herts teams. Also traditional is my peaen to its charms, and 2013 should be no different. The sun shone kindly on the second round of games, the one in which I took part. It was relaxed yet competitive, fun yet serious. And there was good baseball on show.

Perhaps most notably, pitching ace Ryan Bird got to show off his famous fastball in a series of great moments. There were match-ups with batters from the youth leagues and from the Single-A Eagles, who got a taste of what they are striving for. They probably heard the ball go past rather than actually seeing it, but you still learn the lesson. There was the gloriously even contest against slugger Andy Cornish, the Hawks co-manager, who defiantly won by ripping a double down the left field line. And there was the pitching duel against Liam Green — of which more later.

Old faces are welcomed back for the Hunlock — such as Andrew Fulford, a hero of the Hawks 2012 post-season, and Simon Langton who now plays his baseball in Hull. And these are mixed up with players who are brand new to the game, such as Mike Green of the Blue Dogs, who showed both power and poise in his first at-bats.

The spirit is always great and perhaps that comes from the feeling that you are getting a little something extra, a baseball bonus, by playing into October.

Hnlock Series action — Darrin Ward in action on the pitching mound

So how was my Hunlock playing experience? Actually pretty decent, considering it was my first baseball action in five weeks, and only my second in about nine weeks. I made some plays at third base — tagging out a runner on a throw from Carlos Velasco-Caruz, and even fielding a grounder and throwing out a White Lightning runner at first.

I also felt that I had made one of my best ever plays from the position to secure the final vital out of the game against the Red Roosters. Remember that pitching duel I was telling you about? Well, at the bottom of the final inning, with the go-ahead run on third base, and two men out, Liam Green chopped a hit into the hole towards short. I roved to snare the ball, and with no chance to get Kimi Saionji racing home I hurled it as hard as I could to Rod Naghar at first.

Bang. Bang. But I was sure the play had gone in our favour and the Dogs started to celebrate a job well done when the umpire called Liam safe. The Roosters instead celebrated a walk off, while complaints about the call were added to earlier complaints about the controversial balk call which had put Kimi on second and ultimately into scoring position.

But this being the Hunlock rather than a big league playoff game, the controversy faded quickly. We are all still talking to each other. No helmets were thrown. On this occasion, I have the satisfaction of knowing I am right, and that is enough!

With the bat, I went 0-3, but got good wood on it every time. I grounded out against Mike Cattermole, but moved the runner over. Against the heat of Liam Green, I thought it would be best to try to go the other way. I hit the ball almost exactly where I wanted it, just about two feet too low, and it was caught by Kyle Lloyd-Jones at first base.

Then there was that final out, against the Black Widows’ and Herts Falcons’ very own pitching Yoda, Darrin Ward. His main trade is not exactly high heat but I was still determined the get that hit to right field. Instead, Gilberto Medina’s glove was the recipient of my final gift.

The baseball year was over. The Blue Dogs hoped for a big comeback in the final round of games, but a double-rainout meant the Widows took the title. But maybe the result is not what is important. Maybe it’s about the fact that the baseball family which has been built in Herts is still so strong, so deep into the year. And that it can once again hope for even better next year.

5 September 20135 September 2013 by Rob Jones

Baseball gods, birthday gifts, baked goods

The first pitch was up around my shoulders. I left it, and it was called a strike. The second pitch was a little higher, but I swung at it anyway, and missed.

This being a training game between the playoff-bound Raptors and the cobbled-together Herts Rebels, I was still ribbing the umpire — and being ribbed by the catcher — when the third pitch came down. It was low in the zone and somehow I managed to stroke it imperiously towards the outfield. And thus began my 41st birthday present from the baseball gods.

The Herts club has had an amazing year, and still has the prospect of three teams winning post-season silverware. So there is a lot to talk about. But the advantage of having a personal quasi-blog is that I can still talk about my own fun on a baseball field.

My standing excuse remains that my own experience reflects that of many British baseball part-timers, and I am sticking to it. If the game is not about a collection of great personal moments creating a greater whole, then what is it?

And so, back to the story. As warm late summer sunshine bathed Grovehill I was taking part in a loose but nonetheless competitive training game for the Raptors. And I had just driven that 0-2 pitch over and past the centre fielder. I was running hard out of the box and straight to second base and as I approached I could see the ball was still at the base of the fence. So I kept going.

Heading for third I shouted for a clear sign about what to do and was met with a wheeling arm. Carry on. As the Rebels bench rose in encouragement, and the catcher began to set up to take the throw, I wrung the last out of my newly-aged legs to head for home. It wasn’t a classic Major League slide taking me through the plate and into a pop-up. It was a desperate slide to simply get a toe to the plate and grind to a halt.

But it was a success. And it was, unquestionably, an inside the park home run. Never in over a decade of baseball have I scored a home run. Elsewhere on this blog you will find references to the hits which have come closest. And there have been times when overthrows and blatant errors have allowed me to get all the way round in one go. But this was the real deal.

My sister characterises baseball as “Swing, miss. Swing, miss. Swing, miss. Sit down”. Wag that she is, she asked if I still had to sit down after scoring a home run. I replied that no, I had to lie down, as it was exhausting!

It had been six weeks since I played any baseball at all and the pace was hard to handle. After the first ten minutes or so of fielding drills at second base – not only taking my own grounders, but covering first and going to second for cut-off throws – I was thoroughly knackered. But somehow this turned into a day when everything went right.

At the plate, I hit two more singles, and didn’t make an out. In the field, I tagged out two runners at second. Both were a credit more to the pickoff move of young Zack, and the arm of the Hawks catcher Hunter Devine. But they were fun outs to get.

As the day came to an end the remaining players split to make two seven-man teams so we could continue. One hit got through and sped away into our vacant outfield, but I sprinted after it, made a good throw to Adam, who made a great cut and relay and the batter — who was outrageously trying to follow my earlier example and score an inside-the-parker — was cut down at the plate. Result.

Finally, as the sun sank so low behind home plate that the batter and catcher became an anonymous silhouette, I made my final stellar contribution – as a relief pitcher.

My memory may be tinted by rose-coloured sunglasses, but the way I recall it – and how history will now mark it — is that I got the final two outs to save the win. (Yes OK so I walked in a run first, but that’s being picky)

It all ended with me fielding a sharp comebacker off Eagles slugger Adrian Smithers, despite barely being able to see the ball. A simple throw to first and it was over.

This had been my 41st birthday. And it had been a good one. There were home-made cakes, courtesy of my long suffering wife, for everyone involved. Quite literally, icing on the top of a fine day.

The year had once again thrown up many obstacles to prevent my regular appearance in a Herts uniform, and I’m not sure that I made it to a single training session at Grovehill. But there is something deeply satisfying about a storybook ending, and I will call this one of those. The sun shone. Everyone was relaxed and was just having fun. And doing some simple things right made it even more fun.

Will it be champagne-time this Saturday as the Herts Raptors try to win the Single-A League national championship

The next few weeks hold great promise for the club, with the Raptors the first to step to the plate. They have a great spirit and a lot of talent and they deserve success. The Falcons, having secured the NBL pennant, can now top that by going one better than last year and winning the playoffs.

I will be watching from the sidelines, but at all times I will be willing for those players to experience the exuberant feeling I know you can get from playing baseball.

18 July 2013 by Rob Jones

Fastballs, hot dogs and underpants: Herts in Croydon 2013

One of the most famous sayings in sports goes something like this: Winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.

But there are times when it isn’t true — and the annual London Tournament is one of them. For me anyway. Perhaps not everyone comes with the same attitude. But I see this weekend as a chance to relax on a baseball diamond while still playing a competitive game. If I have to choose a pithy quote, I’d prefer Grantland Rice’s “it’s not that you won or lost, but how you played the game”.

For anyone who hasn’t been, the London Tournament in Croydon is a weekend bunfight of baseball, with teams competing from around England but also from further afield. Clubs have come over from Ireland, France, and the Netherlands.

Herts players — Cris Hiche (R) gives his first team talk of the weekend

Some are complete teams. Others are made up from random bits of clubs and from collections of players who make shifting rosters. The Herts offering this year was one team, made up of the very best from the NBL Falcons, down to the Sunday hackers like me from Single-A.

That is a great opportunity to play against and alongside some classy players. Xavi Gonzalez has been causing a stir in British baseball this year, so to see him up close is fun. Chilean international Cris Hiche was managing the squad, so it was good to watch him handle some of the rising young stars he has helped to develop at Grovehill.

I took first base for our first game of the day, against the MK Bucks. I really enjoy playing first, as you can be in on virtually every play. You coach players to always want the ball, and to always expect the ball — at first base, there is never any question about that. I’d gladly do it more often, though manages would probably want me to grow five inches.

It can be a little daunting to be taking the throws from cannon arms like Liam Green and Carlos Velazco-Caruz, but at least you know that the ball is definitely going to reach you! It’s not like Single-A here (I would still quite like it if Liam took something off his throws though!)

I safely caught a couple of routine ground-outs which the infield had snared. There was another which I caught, but then lost as I pulled my hand out from the runner’s path, before gathering it again. MK argued their guy was safe, the umpire gave him out. I honestly don’t know, but I did think that I had got him before the ball came out the glove.

Falcons manager Lee Manning suits up. Form an orderly queue, ladies.

Hitting was a challenge against a strong pitcher. The downside of getting to play with great players is that you have to face some, too! My scoresheet shows that the Bucks starter struck out 8 in his four innings of work, so I should feel no shame in being one of them!

At least the second time up I managed to get a bat on it. I figured it was best to go the other way to help me deal with the high speed fastballs, but I lined out to second base. If I’d come up a third time, I’d have got him! Definitely.

The second game went slightly less well for me, though much the same for the team (a defeat this time by the Midland All Stars, one of those pick-up squads which seemed to have players from the Latin Boys, the Nottingham Rebels, and the Essex Redbacks). I never got to hit, and in the field was a party to three balls which were just too far out of reach. The one play I could have made — receiving a force-out at second — Lee threw instead to first and muffed it. But I won’t hold it against him…

Of course, as the first words of this article suggested, the London Tournament experience is not just about playing competitive baseball. It is about beer and hot dogs in the baking sun. About reading the Daily Telegraph sports section while relaxing on the bench.

It’s about endlessly ribbing Lee Manning, and fighting off unpleasant visions of him in his underpants. It’s about empathising with catcher Dave Westfallen as he took a foul ball directly to the crown jewels. When I say empathising, obviously I mean that we laughed cruelly, but we always had a good heart behind it.

It’s about catching up with former team-mates and old faces. Ex-Falcon Marty Cullen was helping run the show for the GB team, so he was busy lugging beer, hawking merchandise and shooting the breeze. Simon Langton, now with Hull, again lent Herts his soft hands and strong arm for the weekend.

I should also make honourable mention of my Herts Eagles team-mates, who did us proud with their performances on Saturday. Duncan Hoyle and Tom Kosak scored our first runs in both Saturday games, and hit well against higher league pitchers. Hopefully that will boost their confidence for the stretch run in Single-A.

Attention at the club now returns to the serious business of qualifying for playoffs, and hopefully securing a national title. This sun-soaked experience in south London — this small-time equivalent of the All Star break — could be the springboard for even better things.

15 June 201315 June 2013 by Rob Jones

Greetings from Wilderness Park

My aching muscles and joints — including those in my typing fingers — have finally recovered enough from my outing a fortnight ago against the Richmond Dukes, writes Rob Jones, that I can now share a few thoughts on the game. In fact, since I have now begun a forced month-long break from the game due to work, it’s a good time to reflect on the year so far.

Let’s start at the end, with the defeat by Richmond. It was a frustrating game for us all as, despite a good start, we didn’t ever lay a finger on them. We knew we had to try to get a good pitcher out of his rhythm and out of the game and we never did that. Instead, he stayed in charge. We hurt ourselves with some bad base-running which killed rallies – twice we were out trying to steal third. Fundamentals can help you win games, and also save you from losing them.

One of the Eagles stars, Mike Cresswell, keeps up morale

My own batting was disappointing again. In my previous outing — another two weeks ago — I had started to get the better of things with some good drives. I felt that I was the baseball equivalent of stainless steel – I was rust free. Not perfect, by any means, but after a good run of games there were no flaws which could be blamed on a lack of action.

However, now I made more clunky contact off the tip and handle of the bat, escaping with just one infield single (I reached base twice, but I assume one was scored as an error). I think my average for the season thus far is .458 (depending how you interpret a couple of plays it could be as high as .608, but I try to be firm and fair!) with my OBP at .608. So it’s certainly respectable but it’s the mis-hits that bother me. There’s nothing you can do about solid hits which find a glove, but little dribblers on the infield are never going to get the job done.

In the field, I am much more happy with the way the year has gone so far. I’ve played mainly second base which is fine by me, it suits me well. But I have taken decent outfield catches too, and even threw out a runner from shortstop this week. It wasn’t exactly text book – I managed to dive in the dirt towards third base to grab a ground ball , and fired off the throw as quickly as I could. Therefore it seemed to bounce about four times, but either the runner was slow or he had set off slowly because he thought it was through — either way, we got him! While my muscles may have stopped aching, the skin I tore off my arm to make the play has not yet grown back.

And I have to say a quick word about my two innings of pitching, too. It’s my second outing of the season, and was a lot of fun. I actually felt that I threw the ball better against Tonbridge, even though I made just 2/3 of an inning that time. This time two infield flies helped, and two strikeouts — only the second and third of my pitching career!

I also managed to hit the front edge of the plate twice, making the ball pop straight up in the air and into the catcher’s waiting glove. Remarkably, Slater had pulled off the same trick in his innings. Tell me honestly, have you ever seen that three times in one game?? Anyway, enough about pitching for now. It might demand a whole article in the near future!

Instead, let’s talk about the Eagles. Sitting pretty at just one game under .500, with more than 140 runs scored, is more than anyone could surely have hoped for a team with so many genuine rookies. As a new boy to the team — if not to much else — I am really impressed by the enthusiasm, spirit and camaraderie on the Eagles. Games have been fun to play. A lot of the credit goes to the manager Duncan Hoyle. He has led from the front, taking pitching duties, hitting well, and using his resources cannily to help win.

There have been many moments to remember:

• The mobbing of Will Belbin as he scored the winning run against the Raptors in the rain. Great drama in a walk-off, no matter whether it is British Single-A, or the US Major Leagues.

• Five of us gathering comically at the third base coaches box to shout at Adrian Smithers to hold up as he ran enthusiastically for home. He said he didn’t hear so well in the batting helmet, so we were there to help.

• The self-same Smithers coming through time and again with the bat, and limping desperately round the bases to help the cause. For those of you old enough to remember, it was reminiscent of England’s Terry Butcher in the famous World Cup qualifier against Sweden.

• MVP candidate Mike Cresswell going half way from third base on a fly ball, returning to the base once he realised it had been caught, then loudly declaring “F**k it”, tagging and sprinting for home anyway. Gung-ho. He made it.

• My closest moment yet to a home run, at Essex. Not sure I will ever hit one but it seems this was my best effort so far! I wasn’t looking, as I had my head down going for two once I knew it was clearing the left fielder, but as I pulled up they said “You were robbed”. A ground rule double, then *sad face*

And so, I trudge off to the baseball wilderness for a few weeks as the Eagles surge on without me. Hopefully the English summer will hold off just enough to allow for a few more games and a few more wins. Though not so many that they don’t want me back!

I have managed to get in a little private training — which amounts to throwing a ball against the wall in the local park – and hopefully I might make some sessions at Grovehill. Either way, I will hope to build on what has been an enjoyable season so far, and one which still promises much more.

15 May 2013 by Rob Jones

Euphoric house: Eagles walk off as winners

In more than a decade playing baseball, I have been walked off on many times, writes Rob Jones. I can easily think of two occasions within a few weeks of each other, when first Braintree and then the Old Timers snatched a victory from my team in the bottom of the ninth. And yet it took much rummaging in my brain to find an instance when I had enjoyed the euphoria instead of the deflation of a walk-off.

That just shows how rare and special Sunday’s Eagles victory was over the Raptors. A rain-soaked, see-sawing four hour epic of conflicting emotions. Anticipation. Concern. Confidence. Frustration. Jubilation.

I had a lot invested in the game. For one thing, I had used up a day of my annual leave from work to be able to take part! And the weather was threatening to scupper it all. In the end, the heavy rain never really materialised, more a steady drizzle. And us in the British baseball community… well, we laugh in the face of steady drizzle.

The Eagles as a whole had invested a lot too. After two heavy losses, you want to win. I don’t think there was ever any question of a grudge match, but you do want to do well against your most direct rivals — and what could be more direct than the Raptors, the other Herts Single-A team, and the one which is built for greater success?

When we started badly you feared the worst. Rookie errors made by rookies are no surprise, but that didn’t make Duncan any happier about them, and it didn’t make us any happier. The Raptors can hit well, and they didn’t need our help to do it. When we got our own bats out, that led to the confidence and some satisfaction. And we tightened the defense considerably.

I have not hit particularly well so far this season, but managed better contact in this game. There were a couple of ground balls from the tip of the bat, but at least one of them allowed to reach base on either an infield hit or an error (I couldn’t entirely see which). And other hits, including a double, were more solid. I was less than an inch away from a perfect triple down the right field line, too – frustratingly, that was just another strike.

But at that point it didn’t seem to matter. We were well in control. Not much came my way in the field, that I can recall. But when I was removed along with other starters I didn’t mind too much.

That was when this really became a game of two halves though! The Raptors made a remarkable comeback, and I tip my hat to them for that. Not only the 13 runs they scored in one inning, but the way they fought to use that as inspiration to actually go on and win. Watching from the sidelines as the runs came in, and as Eagles rallies were snuffed out, was a nervy experience.

The biggest triumph of the day was for the team spirit of the Eagles. Because everyone really wanted this win, and refused to crumble even when it would have been far easier. Momentum and confidence count for a lot in baseball, and seeing a 17-run lead eroded doesn’t make you feel good!

But the ending was the storybook one — for the Eagles, at least. A pinch hit single, stolen bases, the walk-off hit and the mobbing at home plate. Whilst I did finally manage to conjure up a walk off win from my memory (from 2006 – you can even watch that one on YouTube) there was no home plate party that time. This time, we had our act together more.

So there was the euphoria. The first Eagles win of 2013, a clear upset victory, and a fitting finish to a great game. An experience which defines why we turn up on a rainy Sunday. Why we turned up for so many rainy Sundays before we got to this point. A lot of laughs, some really good plays, and a good competitive ball-game from which both sides should take a lot of heart. I speak as an Eagle this year, and the players on our roster should definitely be proud of that win.