Spring days are here again,
the wind up and the the throw
The horsehide hurling through the air
the batters heavy blow
It won’t be very long until the stands are overflowing
with baseball fans from everywhere who boo and do their crowing
And that is our America and our democracy
when one may argue in defeat and smile in victory
Because our baseball represents our human way of living
of playing square and asking less, than ever we are giving
There ought to be spring training now for everyone on earth
to put us in condition and to help us prove our worth
A Shout Out to My Dad today for all his many talents, this being only one of them.
This is just one of many of the poems my Dad has memorized through the years. He learned this one sometime in the 50’s. My father, Stanley Joesph Cartwright, played semi pro baseball in San Francisco with Sarto’s AC. His father, my Grandfather; Joeseph Leslie Cartwright, played Professional baseball for the Western Leagues, The Pacific Coast Leagues, The Salt Lake City Bees with Tony Lazzeri and in the minor-league baseball for the Mission Reds, a San Francisco-based pro team. In the off season he played against Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Ty Cobb and Jim Thorpe.
Baseball has always been big in our family. I played in an after school softball program in high school, which was short lived. My husband has played all of his life and our kids have been immersed in it all of their lives as well. He coached them all from T-Ball to majors in 8th grade. In 1994 my husband went to baseball fantasy camp that The San Francisco Giants ran, which was a dream come true for him.
Four Kids and their Dad
Four kids and their dad on the baseball diamond,
giving hand signals, shouting calls
Run, slide, throw,
rounding the bases for the winning run.
Pitcher, shortstop, left fielder and catcher, we had one of each.
3 strikes and you’re out and you better not pout.
Good sportsmanship was required.
Daddy’s little girls, had him wrapped around their finger, were safe
while he and our son had words and arguments while flipping the bird, since he never quite understood he was a surfer by fate.
Mom In the stands, cheering them all on, delivering snacks, refereeing, mending wounds, always just missing the catch or the home run and rushing home to get dinner on the table.
Who’s on first, second, third or home, it was never clear to her since her job was the schlepper.
Every year they got out of school for Opening Day and even watched their Dad play as a Giant one year at spring training camp with all the Giants greats.
And now they all play on a coed summer softball league when Covid isn’t happening and our son now gives him a run for his money. Coed champions now 3 times in a row and mom shows up with the dogs and watches in the stands.
Well, we lost tonight but the memories live on of better games ahead. I still hear my grandma singing take me out to the Ballgame which is the best part of baseball to me. Sorry, but to me, baseball is the only sport you can fall asleep in and not miss anything, except if you do. My husband argues that you have to understand the nuances of the game and I’m sure he’s right, but it’s beyond me. My favorite thing about the game is getting there late, visiting the amazing vegetable garden with kale and lettuces, walking around, eating peanuts and then leaving early. Lunch at Momo’s after would be ideal or an Irish Coffee at the Buena Vista but that rarely makes the cut.
Cheers to a great season and all of you for being great sports and visiting! Please like ( if you to of course), comment and or share. Have a great weekend however you spend it.
Happy Easter and Rebirth and Renewal,
Copyright © Cindy Georgakas
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