Rant #1,963: Me, Myself, I

This year's version of the "Subway Series" ended with the Yankees outlasting the Mets, 7-5, for a four-game series sweep.

I am quite happy with the result, and I think that this year, in particular, I would have been really disappointed if the Bronx Bombers would have lost even one game.

The Yankees are fighting for the playoffs, while the Mets have had to deal with a rash of injuries to their pitching staff, and are playing out the string.

The Yankees have had their own run of injuries, but they have been able to sustain their early season momentum; the Mets have no pitching, period.

Whatever the case, the Yankees have bragging rights in the New York City Metropolitan Area, and can move on with some confidence as they now go to Boston to face the Red Sox for in an important weekend series.

And I will be watching, when I can spare a moment, because my family and I have a somewhat busy weekend, highlighted by our family barbecue that we are having on Sunday. Relatives from both sides of the family will be attending, and I probably will be too busy to watch much of anything on that day, except the hot dogs and other stuff on the grill.

When I watched the Yankees-Mets series, I just had to wonder how it would be like if I could have been a major leaguer. I wonder how a human being can hit a 457 foot home run. What if I could do that?

But then I come down to earth. I was as a kid, and have always been, a better fan than a player of any sport I tried to play. I am simply not athletically inclined, although I love sports.

I was never the worst player on the field, but I wasn't very good.

What I was was open to all sports, so that I played everything, from baseball and softball to basketball and football, and table tennis and bowling, too.

Nothing organized, except for baseball and bowling, but I loved playing sports with my friends and in our community's Little League.

I loved getting on the field, and getting into the ups and downs of the game.

When Aaron Judge hit that moonshot, I told my wife about what I believe is the longest ball I ever hit in an organized game.

I must have been about 13 or 14, and I was playing softball in the Rochdale Village Athletic League, our neighborhood's own Little League.

I don't remember the situation, but I do remember that as a right handed batter, I tried to hit the ball the other way. If a right handed batter pulls the ball, it goes to the left side. I thought to myself that I would hit the ball the other way to the right side of the field.

I took a swing with my metal bat and I hit the ball really good.

It must have traveled at least 200 feet, probably more, to right field, but as my luck would have it, the team we played actually had a pretty good player playing right, one of the G-- twins, Larry. His brother was Eric and not playing in that game.

I hit it to Larry--who was, even at this age, about 6 foot 3 inches, and weighed maybe 100 pounds (people will back me up on this description--these two were so skinny that you could see the outline of their rib cages when we went swimming in camp) and he ran back, got in front of the ball, and was able to use his entire frame to barely catch the missile I hit out there.

I was floored, but I was also out.

Another time, I hit a ball that somehow got over the centerfielder's head, and rolled to the fence of where we played the game.

There was a runner on first, named Arthur, who was slower than molasses.

I could smell inside the park home run, and as I ran around first, I saw that Arthur was barely past second.

I reached second, and he wasn't even at third yet.

I barely made it to third as he barely made it home.

To this day, I swear that I would have made it all around the bases if Arthur could run, but he couldn't, so I had to settle for a triple.

Oh well, I guess you can't have everything.

That is why when I see 457 foot home runs, or even home runs of the lesser foot variety, I marvel at how human beings can actually hit a ball that far.

Mickey Mantle once hit a ball about 550 feet. How can that be?

I can see how a player can score a basket, even from mid-court, in a basketball game.

I can see a football player making a great catch in the end zone.

I can see a hockey player making a great shot that gets past the goalie into the goal.

Heck, I can see a bowler getting 12 strikes in a row for a perfect game (I once threw six straight strikes to open a game, and bowled a 239).

But I cannot see a human being hitting a ball 457 feet, or 460 feet, or 500 feet.

But it has happened.

And that, to me, is one of the things that makes baseball so special.

I can hit a hoop, I can catch a football.

But there is no way that I can hit a ball that far. No way, no how. No, no, no.

So although I loved to play the game, I am much better as a fan, watching the game, studying what I am seeing, and marveling at it all.

And I have been doing that since 1965, and will continue to do it into my old age.

Speak to you again on Monday. Have a great weekend.