I’ve been wanting to write about the “all-powerful home run” for a while now. Then yesterday, my oldest hit the fourth home run of his high school career. He’s 15, and a sophomore. I took it as a sign to get some thoughts out about all the emotions that go along with such a sacred event. And not just for the batter, but for every person present when that ball flies over the fence.
First, I have come to realize that the power behind hitting the ball over the field and beyond is more conducive to the size of the field than anything else. But rightfully so. All three of my boys have now been able to crush a ball over the fence. Yet crushing a ball over a 180-foot fence is a little different than crushing it over a 380-foot fence.
When my oldest was 11, he sent a total of 6 balls flying over the 200-foot fences in Cooperstown, New York, an accomplishment that we still talk about. I remember being in awe when it happened. Everyone screamed and hollered. You would have thought that he was Bryce Harper as he rounded the bases for his home run trot, which he had perfected by day 5 of the tourney.
But let’s be real. The fences are 200 feet in Cooperstown for a reason…some 12-year-olds are strong enough to crush balls with fields that short. That’s the whole idea. To get that amazing experience. The thrill of knocking it clear out of the park…a park you cannot see past the fences. It’s outta here. Yes, son, do a crazy bat flip. Yes, take your time slowly jogging around first, second, and third. Look around you, son, while you round third and clap hands with your proud coach who then smacks you on the back as you run by. Take it all in. Enjoy being the center of attention for those couple of seconds that might have just won the game for your team. A team that is waiting for you at the end of your trip around the bases, waiting to jump on you and swat your helmet. Yes, stomp hard on home plate with BOTH feet, and point up to the sky while you’re thanking God, just like the pros. Take it all in while every parent cheers and screams and carries on. It’s a huge accomplishment for your age. And if we are being honest, it might not happen again… Because that damn field just keeps getting bigger and bigger the older you get. And that’s OKAY.
This leads to my second thought on the subject: a kid does not have to hit one out of the park to be considered a great ball player. When our middle boy had the opportunity to travel to Cooperstown, he had 1 solo home run during that same tournament. All 89 pounds of him. We really weren’t thinking it was going to happen, and somehow, he did it. Maybe the baseball Gods made sure the wind was blowing just right when he hit that ball. Just enough to carry it away. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in Ethan. He is a great little player with a better baseball IQ than most 13-year-olds out there. But his size has always been a challenge for him. He’s tiny. And sometimes, you just need that extra strength to do great things. It’s just how it is.
Whatever the case, Ethan got to add this home run to the list of his career bests. And I am so happy for him. But it hasn’t happened since. And let’s be honest, it might not ever happen again. Like, ever again. And that is ok. Once you get past youth baseball and ease into middle school and high school, playing on the “big field” is a BIG change. It’s massive. Playing on a field where the mound is 60 feet from home, and the bases are 90 feet apart is hard. Especially when you’re less than 90 pounds and might not grow much bigger or taller.
Hitting a home run is not for everyone. The timing of that pitch hitting that bat just at the precise moment and correct place on the bat has got to be damn near perfect. And the batter needs to be able to back it up with power, all of which requires more strength in your legs than I could probably ever attain, and I’ve run 9 marathons.
Our youngest recently hit one over in practice. It was a big moment, and he was all smiles. And one day it might happen to him in a game. Maybe a big game. But if it doesn’t IT’S OKAY. He’s still a great little baller. No pressure, kid. Just keep working hard.
My third and final thought about the holy grail of baseball feats is this: if someone else hits a home run that is not your child, maybe even not a child on the team you are rooting for, just take it in. Be happy for them! Watch as parents proudly cheer and whoop and holler. Watch the grandparents clap their hands. Watch the umps move out of the way and give the batter space to make their way around the infield. Watch their bat flip, and their home run trot. Watch them stomp on home plate and get pummeled by their team. Watch the little siblings take off for the other side of the fence in hopes of finding their older brother’s famous home run ball. Watch the batter smile from ear to ear as they make their way back to the dugout, knowing they just made a memory for themselves to last the rest of their lives.
Give them that moment. It’s a well-deserved, magical experience not only to have, but also to witness, whether you are 9, 19, 39, or however many years old. I believe it surely must be called a “home” run because it lives with you forever. It will remain a positive, consistent memory in your heart that, for years to come, will remind you of true happiness. I’m never going to hit a home run in my lifetime, but I love to watch kids, ANY kids, hit one out. It truly is magic.
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