Louisiana Voice

Anyone who knows me is aware that my passion in life is baseball.

Oh, I’ve tried them all: tennis, dirt biking, softball (I was a pitcher, the natural refuge of those lacking in talent), independent league basketball (coaching, not playing), flag football. But I always returned to my first love, baseball.

There’s no game like it. The single hardest thing to do is hit a small sphere thrown at 90 mpg from 60 feet, six inches – with a stick.

I was a terrible player, so I coached a sandlot team that I owned for 10 years. I played only when we were short-handed – like the night in Magnolia, Arkansas, when I found my self in center field and Gene Smith had a no-hitter going in the seventh inning when a fly ball was scorched in my direction. I stumbled in the direction of the missile and just as I looked up, I was blinded by the stadium lights. I threw up my bare left hand to shield my eyes and the ball hit my bare hand and fell into my glove on my right hand for the third out. As we trotted off the field, my left fielder said, “Way to make that routine play look spectacular.” Gene kept his no-hitter until back-to-back singles in the 11^th and guess who misplayed both hits? Guess who let the winning run score on those two errors for a tough 3-2 loss? Yup, yours truly. But I did get my first hit after 28 consecutive strikeouts in that game. God, I love that game despite my own shortcoming, which were many (I like to tell people that except for the fact that I couldn’t hit, couldn’t catch, couldn’t run and couldn’t throw, I could have been really good).

I say all this to say that I’m a baseball purist. I don’t like the idea of starting a runner off on second base in extra innings. I say let ‘em earn their way on base. Could there ever be a game to match the July 2, 1963 matchup between San Francisco’s Juan Marichal and Milwaukee’s Warren Spahn. The game went 16 innings and believe it or not, both pitchers were still around for the finish when Willie Mays hit a walk-off home run off Spahn for a 1-0 win. Over that entire game, Milwaukee had 8 hits and San Francisco 9. Spahn, 42 at the time, struck out only two Giants while 26-year-old Marichal fanned 10 That was a classic that may never be matched.

Pure baseball at its finest.

That’s why I don’t like the rule of limiting a pitcher to two pickoff attempts. Or increasing the size of the bases. Both give unfair advantages to runners. And now they’re talking about allowing a ghost batter to be injected in to hit, even if he’s already in the lineup in a different batting order. That’s not baseball.

But there also is talk of a new League of their Own – a But there also is talk of a new League of their Own – a WOMEN’S PROFESSIONAL BASEBALL LEAGUE.

There are those who call themselves baseball purists who still hate the idea of the designated hitter and who scoff at the very idea of women’s baseball.

I’m not one of them.

I say let ‘em play and I wish them the very best of luck. I don’t remember anyone ever saying that baseball was for men or boys only. LSU women’s basketball coach Kim Mulkey once threatened to sue Dixie Youth Baseball when she was initially blocked from competing with the boys. Dixie Youth backed down and she went on to excel at pitcher, catcher and shortstop.

For those who would never go to a women’s baseball game, I say, fine. Stay home. I don’t really care for NBA basketball, so I don’t go. I’m not a hockey fan, so I don’t attend the games of the Baton Rouge team. Nothing against them or hockey. It’s just not my thing. Baseball is.

And for the women out there who would like to compete in the best game under the sun, I would only say: Go for it. Knock yourself out and have a blast. Life’s too short to worry about the skeptics. If you’re good enough, you’ve earned the right – kind of like a century ago when women decided they’d like to vote.