Hamptons Collegiate Baseball

It was Monday night, one of the biggest nights in Hamptons Collegiate Baseball’s history – a thorough 11-0 victory over the Wolff Division in the ACBL All-Star Game. With an exhibition the next day and rest in order due to the June rain that crammed much of the season into July, it was mentioned that Westhampton’s bench would be short for their exhibition game against the Moriches Battlecats. Coach Dave Walker looked over at me and said that I could suit up – to pinch-hit, pinch-run, maybe throw to a few batters – if I was up to the challenge. My initial snicker subsided shortly. He was serious.

“It looks like you won’t be getting any sleep tonight,” said assistant Rob Cafiero. He was right. You dream of magically connecting on 90 mile-per-hour cheese and taking it over the fence, going into a home run trot that I’d never practiced and getting mobbed at home. Realistically, though, I was almost certainly doomed. I hadn't seen live pitching since Little League. I was the oldest and least athletically gifted of my parents’ three sons. Nevertheless, this was an opportunity I had always dreamed of, never thought would surface, but would never pass up.

As Tuesday morning came, I jumped out of bed and was anxious to get out to the field to see if this opportunity was legitimate. When I arrived to the field for batting practice, I went up to Coach Walker and told him I came prepared and he said I would get an at-bat and maybe even pitch. He gave me an Aviators jersey with No. 19 on the back and told me to get ready. I did my intern work – setting up the sound system, getting the dugout ready, etc. – before grabbing the lumber and heading out for BP. Could this really be happening? My racing heart confirmed it was; I connected on a few pitches, including a deep drive to right center field. Confidence was building.

It was unreal sitting in the dugout and seeing the game from a perspective that I've never had the privilege of seeing before. The game seems to move faster. Although it was an exhibition it was a tight game. I was slated to be the cleanup hitter in the seventh but a 1-2-3 inning put me in the leadoff spot in the home half of the eighth.

I felt numb. It was a surreal feeling taking practice swings prior to the eighth. I’d dreamt about this scenario and played it out in my mind thousands of times. I watched the pitcher trying to figure out how to time him and maybe make contact. Finally, the catcher makes his throw to second and conclude warm-ups and up steps the most nervous, anxious batter you’ll see all season. The team cheered me on as I stepped into the box, banged my bat on home plate and dug in. I won't forget the late afternoon sun in my face and I prepared for the first pitch – a called strike at the knees, whistling in at, according to my “teammates,” somewhere in the 88 mile-per-hour range. I could barely even react. The next pitch zoomed past at waist level; I took a Herculean cut (by Feldstein standards) but missed. Oh-and-two.

I knew all along it would be a challenge; after all, this was a college level pitcher. I was determined to go down fighting and struck out on the next pitch, and just like that, it was over but what a ride. I got some high fives and headed to the dugout in what was one of the most humbling experiences I have had. Baseball looks so easy watching on TV and in the stands that you almost forget the tremendous skill, practice and talent it takes to be good at it.

Coach Walker then surprised me and put me out in left field for the 9th. I retrieved a double to the wall and chucked it back into shortstop Nick Ahmed. It was my only action for the inning. My career was over and rightfully so. I handed in my jersey and came away having fulfilled a dream and gained a new appreciation for the people who make a living playing this game, as well as the Aviator players trying to make their big league dreams come true. I admire their respect, dedication, and passion for the game they possess.

The sun soon set on the field and my day as a player was over. As I drove home I smiled. Once again, I was reminded of the joys of baseball and its amazing power to make you feel like a kid again.