The little book of dreams

By Howard on June 20th, 2007

The Oregon State Beavers lost. To UC. Bad. Totally outplayed. Not today in the run up to the college world series, but a few weeks ago on Memorial Day when they were here in town to play my alma mater, the UCLA Bruins.

It’s not hard to tell that baseball rules in my house. Between the pitchback and homeplate in the backyard, to bats leaning up in corners, and baseball cards on any spare surface, its pretty clear where the minds of young men run to in the spring around here.

I guess it runs in the family. My mother-in-law can often be found watching a game, with another game in the picture within a picture and a third game playing on the radio. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that her grandsons are growing up to be fans.

Living in Los Angeles, with two teams hunting a penant, finding a baseball game isn’t a problem, but you might be surprised at which game is the best ticket in town. Neither the Dodgers nor Angels, but the Bruins.

The Bruins play in a great ball park called Jackie Robinson stadium. Its big enough to feel like a real field. You’d never mistake it for a little league diamond. Its a well groomed, well laid out big league park, but its small enough that you know you’ve really been to the game. The action is close enough that you actually watch it on the field and not on the jumbotron out in center field.

For the Oregon State game we sat right behind home plate, close enough to see the ball leave the pitcher’s hand, to hear the smack of the bat and to jump when foul tips hit the screen in front of our seats. The park is small enough, and the atmosphere family friendly enough that we even feel safe letting our little leaguers wander down the first base line to sit on the little hill and chase foul balls.

The quality of play is excellent. We sat with a scout for the San Diego Padres who identified almost a dozen future big leaguers out on the field. Sitting with his son and a radar gun, watching one of the hundreds of games he sees each year, he was a constant reminder that some of these young men who were playing pony league ball a couple of years ago, might be on their way to a world series a few years hence.

Even though pro-careers and fame might still be a few years out, these guys played a great game of baseball. Well executed plays, smart running, great hitting, solid fielding. Everything necessary for an exciting game. Even my four year old budding sportswriter got in on the action noting both a strike out and a home run.
When the game ended, the players were happy to come out, chat with the kids, and sign autographs for all who asked.
They even handed out a few game balls as souveneirs to their new fans.

My guys are still young enough to imagine themselves as major leaguers someday, and old enough to suit up and make plays for their own teams. Its a pleasure let them watch a game where the guys on the field are still chasing their own dreams.
Whether they grow up remembering that they dealt the Beavers their last big loss in their run to the College world series, or whether they end up as big leaguers themselves, for at least today, they were champs to the little guys watching them play.