The freeway was closed this weekend, so I had to take the back way home from my blind running buddy's house in Clawson. There were a lot of runner's out today. I think the prospect of running in shorts and tee shirts was appealing. I know Michael, my blind buddy, enjoyed "not being all bundled up."
"Diversity?" Is there anything more "diverse" than running? I saw ample evidence of that today, while running with Michael and on my drive home. With the freeway closed for destruction, I had to take the back way. It's a very different (and longer!) ride than usual, an opportunity to see the runners in the neighborhoods.
Let's start with a black blind runner (Michael) being guided by an old white runner (me). There were three men, older than I (at least it looked like they were), out jogging and talking, likely solving the world's problems, as runners are wont to do while out there. A senior Asian woman was putting in some running miles, moving pretty lively, too. There were a couple of younger folks pushing baby joggers. But one really caught my eye. There was no baby in it, just a "Trump for President" sign!
It looked like some long distance folks were among the two dozen or so I witnessed. At least they had water bottles. And, there were some who were doing fast laps on the Clawson HS track. One was doing the steps up and down the bleachers. Michael and I ran some hill repeats. Different strokes (or workouts) for different folks!
I watched most of the Tiger game last night, mostly to see Miguel Cabrera bat. I read my book in between his at-bats. When he's in a groove--lookout pitchers! Victor Martinez is fun to watch and is a good, good hitter. But Miggy! He had three hits, including two HRs. One of them went 431 feet! He could have easily had five. He hit a fly ball that was caught on the warning track in the deepest part of the outfield. When he's in that zone, he makes it look so easy. I liken it to the rest of us hitting a ball off of a tee. And, of course, it's not. He's hitting balls that are 90 and 95 mph and faster, ones that are considerably slower, and ones that move up and down and in and out. I really don't know if many people who watch realize how difficult hitting is at that level. Maybe some of them played little league or even high school ball. Nah, we're talking much higher levels than that. I played against maybe 11-12 guys who, at one time or another, pitched in the Majors, if only time for a cup of coffee. But they made it. They were tough, very tough, to hit. Yet, sometimes Cabrera makes it look so easy. I remember Mariano Rivera's farewell appearance at Tiger Stadium, still throwing in the mid- to upper-90s, with that wicked breaking ball. Miggy lashed on of his pitches about 440 feet to the television camera booth in straight-away CF. Yep, he's fun to watch.
Speaking of hitting, I've always wondered if I could have hit, say, college softball pitchers. I don't know what speeds they reach, but do know they are only 46 feet from home plate. That's about 14 feet closer than a baseball pitcher's slab/rubber. And the softball pitchers have not only fastballs and curves, but drops and risers. I used to watch fast-pitch softball when I was a kid and my dad umpired games. Funny, but I remember the catchers (and umpires!) wore masks, but no chest protectors or shin guards. At least in the Detroit area, I think slow-pitch softball killed off fast-pitch. I don't know if there are any men's leagues still around here.
That's not necessarily bad, not an indictment of slow-pitch. It's a lot of fun and a lot of guys play it. In a way, it helped me some in baseball, teaching me to be patient with slower pitchers especially. For several summers, I played both softball and baseball, often one of each on the same nights. Each was enjoyable. In softball, we had a bunch of kids, late teens and early 20s, some, but not all, of whom played high school baseball. But we were pretty good. In tournaments, we beat some of the Major Metro slow-pitch teams, even ones who had or would win national titles. The key was where we played. If there were fences, we didn't stand a chance and were slaughtered. If the fields were open, with no fences, we usually did well, staying close and sometimes winning. That's because we had young kids in the outfield who could chase down the long fly balls for outs, which would have been HRs with fences. I remember some of the Major Metros were very angry, that some young punks beat them. One of our players, when our team broke up (I think jobs and moving away for jobs got in the way.), hooked up with a Major Metro and became an All-American on a national championship team or two.
This time next week I'll be in Amherst for my class's 45th year reunion. Doesn't that seem like a long time--45 years? I think that's because it is. I am looking forward to it, just like I do the class of '70s reunions, which I have been attending (having been made an honorary class member!). I love to take an hour or two and leisurely run on the campus and through the town. The campus has changed, but only a bit. The town has changed immensely. I think I see more cars in a single afternoon than I'd see in a month back when. I run past my dorms and fraternity, past class room buildings, to the athletic fields, and through the bird sanctuary (where we did our long conditioning runs for rugby). I run past places that hold great memories for me--both good and not-so-good! Mostly, though, I love running to Memorial Hill, not only my favorite place on campus, but maybe anywhere. The view of the baseball field is stunning as it takes in the Holyoke Range to the south. And the spring time was my favorite time to look out from Memorial Hill, with the lush greens. Or was the fall my favorite time, the beautiful colored foliage painting an amazing tapestry? Or was it the winter, with the pure white snow covering fields and mountains both? You get the picture. I am rooming with one of my former roommates, teammates, and very close friend. It will be great to see him for a few days. On Sat AM, in West Springfield, I set up my usual baseball team breakfast. It looks like 11-12, plus me, will be there this time. They are great guys and that, too, will be fun. I am meeting my physics professor and baseball coach, both at a reception at Emily Dickinson's house--she won't be there, though. And I haven't even looked at the presentations and panels that will be offered. Karen often pokes fun at them, "You've graduated and still have to go to class?" They are usually very interesting and informative--fun! As I've said many times, here and elsewhere, to have been able to attend Amherst College was a very fortunate thing for me.
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