A Different Game

A player dragging the field with a motor scooter after my Junioren played a game in Diemen

People who have been around the game for a while say that in every baseball game there is a chance to see something you have never seen before. In the Netherlands, every time I turn my head I see something I have never seen before in my baseball experience. I try to act natural when I see cigarettes butts in the dugout, beers after the game, unrestricted metal bats in the hands of grown men, soccer cleats, or players telling me they just don't wear hats. I have even gotten used to each team only playing one game a week, but I have come to the conclusion that they only play eight innings here. I will not be able to get used to that.

(To anyone reading in the Netherlands, I am sorry. I have to tell all this to my friends back home.)

Last Saturday after having slept about an hour and a half due to the jetlag, I traveled with my team to the outskirts of Amsterdam. It brought back good memories of my American Legion summers traveling, joking and playing baseball with my friends. We arrived and would have taken batting practice but after two line drives ended up in the kids teeball game that was being played in our right field corner, that was cancelled and our hitters readied themselves by playing pepper. We then took an infield/outfield that was about all you can expect from a team that plays catch three times a week. This left just enough time for a smoke break before gametime.

My team came out swinging. We put up seven runs in the first inning and gave up eight in the bottom half of the inning. Seeing the umpires zone float from the ankles to the thighs, watching the balls squirt through gloves and seeing catcher catch many of the pitches standing upright, I knew this was going to be a long game. I will spare you.

The eighth inning came around and after the other team pushed their 20th run across the plate their team all gathered in the dugout and prepared to leave. Their in the eighth inning, with score of 20 to 10 the mercy rule had taken effect and that was all she wrote.

The following day my team took the field at home. Pretty fair game. Then in the fifth inning I made my first appearance. Those of you who have seen me play will not be surprised when I say, "Ball 1, Ball 2, Ball 3." And in three pitches I have everyone of my players and fans vehemently opposing the idea of bringing this dumb American to Meppel to play for their club. But then of course came, "Strike 1, Strike 2, Strike 3."

Skip to the bottom of the 8th inning with the Meppel Blue Devils winning 12-5. For those of you keeping score at home, that's a seven run lead with three outs to go. Any way, our 1st Baseman, who makes me look pretty averaged in stature, decides to steal second and crush their second baseman. Of course, words are exchanged and there is stirring in the dugout as we stand up. The scuffle on the field continues and I begin to walk to the dugout gate but by then, IT WAS ON. I was pushing my way out of the dugout by the time our third baseman was squaring a guy up on the chin and haymakers were flying. And I thought the Dutch were pretty neutral. A few minutes of this and the umpire got control of the situation.However, he must have been thirsty because  instead of ejecting players, right there in the 8th inning, he put his hands up and said that was the end of the game.

I am finally posting these a week after the fact. Hopefully we will see the ninth inning this week.
Tot ziens

Fundamentals

On my ride home from the field. Some days it actually turns.

 Wednesday

I have notes written down on a notepad, on the backs of receipts and in a note book about the things I have seen watching the Junioren (14-19 year-old) team and things that I want to work on in practice. The list looks like this: keeping the throwing arm up, running on the field, catching with two hands, footwork fielding ground balls, body alignment towards throwing target, batting stance, hitting for contact, bunting stance, and on and on until I covered nearly every single fundamental in the game of baseball. Even with all these deficiencies, the kids play baseball and love being out there. I can't hardly understand this. I would be frustrated to no end if I were to play and get such sporadic results.

Faced by this daunting task, I wrote my plan for last nights practice: Warm up, play catch... and that's as far as we got. I had to stop the team at this point and take them through the most basic throwing drills, isolating only the arm then adding in upper body rotation. To my amazement the kids took it in beautifully. When they played catch before every throw had a lazy arc and had a slim to fair chance of being online with the target. During the drills I was thrilled to hear the "pop" of the glove and see much fewer balls headed towards the outfield. I even saw some of those half stunned, half excited, all genuine smiles that spring up when your effort shifts from trying to performing. I have played this game all my life and this is why I play the game.

I continued the practice with the basics: throwing, footwork, catching and so on and the kids ate it up. Impressive comes far short of describing their improvement. In a way I am lucky that they have so little experience. Without the thousands of repetitions that American player would have a that age, they do not have engrained patterns of movement making change nearly impossible. I struggled with this through my playing experience and I face it now trying to learn this challenging language.

I am lucky for another reason. Being a 26 year-old "real American" baseball player who has played professional baseball, and on top of that looks like one of them gives me all the credibility I could ask for. I told them a story that was very important to me in my baseball career from when I was in Little League. The story  is about going to a real college baseball team's practice and hearing the coach tell us that you never walk on the baseball field. I told them the same thing. At first there was some resistance but yesterday, I saw guys FLYING around and when their teammates were walking I heard some of them barking at them to run.

The practice yesterday gradually got more intricate and we worked on things I had worked on in high school and in college. Although there still are a lot of baseballs heading in the wrong direction It is such a high to see them working so diligently and really taking a hold of their new skills. I hope they keep their hunger and only become more excited about the game because I don't want to have to write a post that negates all I have written here.

I hope you have a lot of good mojo in your day today and remember,
Truth rests more in Process than Product.

People, Place, Beer, Language

 Team management having post-post-game beer in town square. 

(Now you understand why I write rather than post pictures)

Tuesday

The climate here is very comfortable, at least for the summer. It reminds me somewhat of a mix between Minnesota and Kentucky but cooler.  It is right between cool and warm but the humidity from being close to water. The climate makes everything green. It is mostly deciduous trees and the grass on the fields is in great shape. 

The people have been very welcoming.  They speak English almost all the time around me and when they don’t, one of them will usually fill me in. Their English is very good from their formal school learning and from UK and US television with subtitles. I am very lucky because Dutch is haard. (pun intended) I started my Rosetta Stone courses today and I realized its harder than I thought. Nothing is written the same way as English, there are sounds I have never made in my life and the spelling isn’t even similar to English. There are consonants that make vowel sounds, silent letters, and some of their nouns are like five syllables long just to say something like paint or paper. I think it is an accurate comparison to say, in comparison to English, learning Spanish is like learning to ride a bike but learning to speak Dutch is like learning to ride a bike while juggling and whistle Dixie. 

Being a “real American” baseball player is serious currency here. I have been invited to eat and of course drink every day except yesterday. Monday seems to be taken as time out where you might drink slightly less to rest and catch up from every four day party that finally climaxes on Sunday. I tried to keep up this weekend but my liver is out of practice. It is also hard to get used to being outside having a drink after nine and the sun hasn’t set yet. It makes for long nights. As a side note, my team starts its practice around seven tonight. 

That’s all for now. The team I coach lost on Saturday 20 to 10 (offensive game here) and the team I play for “won” on Sunday and I pitched four innings. I’ll save the details for later. I have some great baseball commentary in store so if you read this far I will make it up to you with my next post. 

Duij for now!

The Day of Rest.

 

I always thought 14 would make more sense.

Monday

I woke up morning as I have every other morning, at 3pm. I am kidding.  That was only for a couple days until Thursday I slept 13 hours to catch up from the jetlag and travel. Today I woke up as I have the other mornings to the white northern light sneaking through my blinds, the sounds of birds chirping and a soft breeze and the smell of cigarettes. I am not in Kansas anymore.

The sound of the birds, the breeze, and the kids playing on the playground below my window is deafening because in comparison to the states, the town has no real noise. There is no traffic to speak of, and thanks to strict noise regulations there is hardly any construction, generators running or loud industrial buildings. The streets aren’t clean; they are immaculate, intact, and traveled mostly by bike. 

I thought Davis had a lot of bikes but though this town had only 30,000 people many of them don’t even own a car. Everywhere I go there are packs of kids cruising around, families with young children in basket type seats on the parents handlebars or people on their normal work commute. It’s like a utilitarian Disney land but instead of your admission, this lifestyle is funded by a 19% yes, nineteen percent sales tax. That last sentence makes me want to write all about all conversations about the philosophical and governmental differences between here and the states but I will reserve that for another time when I have more to base my conclusions on.

Three Things I Learned In London

I learned three things from the two British gentlemen I drank a beer with on my excursion to a genuine pub in the Westminster area of London. It was quite a strange but lucky coincidence to run into these two in the pub I chose at random. Childhood friends, one had worked as a diplomat in the US and in Holland and they both had ended up living in the Bay Area for parts of their lives.

They told me these things: First, the true British ales are served warm and so and so was the best and blah blah blah, I was tired. Second, I did listen to their suggestions about going to the board walk of the Hague during the summer and to the Rockerij (Rockery) “Coffee Shop” in Amsterdam, where the play really “loungie” music and the big fans on the ceiling turn very slowly so you can lay back on the overstuffed couches just…chill, I guess. Third, they told me that my flight was leaving London City Airport which was about an hour away in 45 minutes.

I figured I had earned the chance to kick back and have a beer. It had been a long day. I had just received my passport in the mail about 15 hours before that. 14 hours before that, because my passport was late, I was chasing the airport bus down Interstate 101. 12 hours before that I boarded a plane at SFO. Shortly after that my two checked bags sat safely in the San Francisco airport as my flight departed for Heathrow Airport. So by the time my sore butt had made it to Heathrow, I was ready to enjoy a beer and put my bad luck behind me.

To be honest, at the time, I wasn’t upset that my bags didn’t arrive in London. It seemed like this freed me up to take the Tube through downtown London on my way to London City airport to catch my connecting flight to Amsterdam that evening. I saw Westminster Abbey and got to drink at a real pub. As it turned out I would have plenty more time to sight-see around London after that beer.

When I finally arrived at London City Airport my flight had left and the only other flight that evening was full. I spent the night in a Hostel near Kensington Park, which I hear is beautiful, but I guess you need daylight to see it. That evening I was definitely ready for a beer so I dragged a hungover Kentuckian out of bed and teamed up with a German girl who, needless to say, was glad to drink with us to two more pubs. I had no trouble sleeping that night with three snorers in a nine bed room.

This morning I arrived in Holland and finally to the beautiful city of Meppel. So much has happened today and there is so much to describe about this place that I have plenty for my next post. As for now, I am too tired and as one of my Dutch hosts said, “I have too many thinks.” Until next time and don’t forget to eat your vegetables.

Gratitude

In an effort to procrastinate from packing my clothes I thought I would start my blog. If everything goes as planned, tomorrow I should be on a plane over the Atlantic Ocean on my way to the Netherlands.

This summer I was granted the opportunity to play, coach and teach baseball in the town of Meppel in the Netherlands. I shouldn't go much further without thanking Greg Brumley for setting me up with a deal to travel, be housed, fed, and paid while playing and sharing the game I love. Thanks so much Greg, this looks like a dream come true.

People who believe in witchcraft have told me I "manifested" this. I say I put myself in the right position and got really lucky. [warning: boring back story]

It all started back in December when I realized that I was not nearly ready to give up baseball and grow up. At that point I dedicated myself full bore to training in order to go to and independent tryout and sign to play this summer. I was working out six days a week and eating and sleeping baseball. I even managed to zombie my way through stacking fruits and vegetables at Whole Foods to the point where I was able to keep a steady income.

This was all going great until May 1st when I had to move to Sebastopol, met a girl, and started working 5am shifts. My rhythm went down the drain and there arose a serious dissonance between my goals and actions to meet them. I tried to keep up my training but I was unable so I just got stressed out. (Sorry to all the people that had to be around me this month.) Until, like beacon of hope in a foggy sea, I get a call from Greg, who I had talked to months earlier about my desires to get back into professional baseball, saying "Why don't you go to Europe?"

Haha Greg, very funny. That should let me forget about the last four months I have sacrificed nearly all my time and energy for baseball.

It wasn't exactly what I had been looking for, but it was better. He introduced me to the idea of this trip and before I knew it, two weeks and dozens of emails later I have a ticket, a passport (in the mail. God I hope it arrives on time tomorrow so I can go) and a job in the Netherlands.

I am so excited, nervous, and anxious about this new adventure. Thanks to all my friends and family for being there for me. I am going to miss you all, but this is going to be AWESOME! TIME TO PACK!