Growing up 12 miles from Fenway baseball was a very big deal
in Lexington and I was determined to give it my best shot. Opening day was a
major event with a parade through the center of town and players from all the
teams lining both baselines (think opening day at Fenway for all its pomp and
circumstance and you wouldn’t be far off). There is where it went from bad to
worse. My shiny, new all-white uniform had arrived in the mail. I was so excited to try it on and then so sad
when the pants did not fit. My late mother, in her infinite wisdom, decided
(glad you are not here to read this Ma) said she could fix them; so I let her
give it a shot, but all she had was gray material to use. So what ended up
happening was that 100 Little League baseball players lined the first and third
baselines at the Center Field in Lexington, and 99 had perfectly pressed
sparkling white uniform pants. I had white pants with a large gray patch
directly in the center of the posterior. With a last name of Guernsey (rhymes
with cow) and being rotund in places where I shouldn’t have been, the laughter
and humiliation were complete.
This was my most embarrassing moment but surprisingly not by
that much. In little league baseball there was a rule that everyone had to
play. This made the coaches unhappy but the players (especially the lousy ones
lie me!) ecstatic. My coach sent me out to right field (told you I was the
bench warmer money can buy) with a great deal of trepidation and the sincere
hope that no one would actually hit the ball to me. If you are unfamiliar with
LL ball, it is where the coaches put their worst players in hopes nothing to
awful will take place. Unfortunately for him it did. One of the first batters
that came up to bat after I went in the game lined one way over my head and
hilarity ensued. I ran (waddled?) back
after the ball when my cap flew off. Instead of continuing to pursue the ball,
I stopped and went back after my lid. Only after retrieving my hat did I resume
my pursuit of the ball. Suffice to say that by the time I retrieved the ball my
opponent had long since circled the bases and I was unceremoniously yanked from
the game. The only saving grace is that there was no AFV or YouTube to record
this monumental faux pas.
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