I watched the movie The Bucket List the other day. You know the concept of a bucket list- things you’d like to do before you kick the bucket. My wife and I starting verbalizing a list. A lot of our list includes travel destinations. One item that was on my list I got to scratch off just last week.
Just shy of a month ago we set the date for our Cleveland Sports Blog Night at Canal Park. I found out a day or so later that I would be given the opportunity to throw out the first pitch. I’ve always wanted to do that. I’ve led groups to probably a half dozen different ball parks, but never have I been given that chance before. It’s at this point in the story that everyone wants to know how I got to do it. In the movie Raising Arizona, Nicolas Cage summed up a universal truth. He said “This whole thing is who you know, and then over here you have favoritism.” The truth is I knew someone who knew who I should ask. So I did. I rolled the dice and sent the email. Imagine my surprise when I was told “Sure, you can do that.”
I was pumped. I called my wife. I called my mom. I know. It’s just a double A baseball game. yeah, well how many of those have YOU thrown out the first pitch for? I decided to keep it a secret from the rest of the guys on the site. I figured it would be a genuine reaction that way when I was introduced. I did tell our ‘staff photographer’ because I wanted to make sure that he was there in time to get pictures.
Two weeks before the game. I start thinking about the pitch. I search for ‘first pitch’ on youtube. What I find terrifies me. Seriously, how hard is it to throw a baseball 60 feet? Apparently harder than I think. I see things like this. Or even worse, this. I begin to get nervous.
I played baseball for 8 years growing up. I played softball for 5 or 6 years after high school. Surely I could get the ball to the catcher without bouncing it right? That seems to be the biggest offense while throwing out the first pitch. Nobody really cares if it’s a strike or not. Nobody cares if it’s a fastball on a line. Just get it over the plate without making the catcher do something miraculous to come up with the ball. I decided I need to practice.
Unfortunately, life gets in the way, and suddenly it’s three days before the game and I haven’t thrown once. I get together with a friend to do a little throwing, but it is short-lived as it gets dark and we only get a couple tosses in. I throw enough to remember that throwing a baseball and throwing a softball are different animals. Throwing that little ball causes much more stress on your elbow. At least it does mine.
Day before the game I make sure to get some practice in before the sun goes down. I throw for about 45 minutes. It wasn’t pretty. Some pitches were on target. Others not so much. The majority got somewhere in the vicinity of the mitt. The problem was that when I missed, I missed badly. I determined two things- 1. I was not going to worry about throwing a heater. My pitch would be more of a throw than a pitch. 2. No matter what I was offered, I would not be throwing from the mound. No point in having to make an adjustment that I hadn’t practiced.
Day of the game I’m about as nervous as I can get. “Don’t bounce it. Don’t bounce it.” I have told a number of people about the pitch. Got a lot of good luck wishes. A lot of people were actually impressed that I had the chance. I think my chest probably puffed out a little as I started to tell the story. After all, who gets to throw out the first pitch at a ball game- the President, movie stars, pro athletes from other sports, rock stars and community leaders. And me. Yep, I was pretty impressed with myself.
25 minutes to game time. I report to guest services and tell them who I am, and that I am supposed to throw out the first pitch. the response- “Ok, go stand over there with the others.” Um, others? Ok, I’ve been to games where more than one ceremonial first pitch is thrown. No biggie. I won’t be the only one in the spotlight, but hey that’s ok.
10 minutes to go. A team representative with a radio makes the announcement “First pitches, follow me to the field.” As I was standing next to him I start walking right behind, unaware of the trail of people behind me.
We get to the field and are told that we are in the “first group” of first pitches. THE FIRST GROUP? There are seven of us in that first group. SEVEN. I’m third in our group. The first guy to throw out a pitch is a little league coach. I’m sure his team won something. Whatever. He comes within 4 inches of bouncing it. The catcher smothers it as it gets to the plate. The next one is a chamber of commerce lady. Yep. Bounce city. I can feel the fans in the stands losing interest.
I barely hear the PA as I make my way to the mound. “Rick Grayshock from Wait For Next Year.” Close enough I guess. My heart is pounding as I stare at the catcher crouched behind the plate. Actually, calling him a catcher is kind. It’s one of the ballboys. So much for my thought of Lonnie Chisenhall catching the pitch and signing it.
I take aim and throw.
The good news: I don’t bounce it. It wasn’t a strike, as it was certainly high, but the catcher didn’t have to leap from his stance to make a play on it. I’d say it was slightly above the letters. Not bad. And I didn’t fall over while making the pitch.
Four others take their aim and throw, including two kids and a car dealership representative who threw the best pitch of all of us. 3 bounced to home. Mine wasn’t one of them.
The second group of first pitches was the mascots in attendance. All eight of them. That’s right, I threw out one of FIFTEEN ceremonial first pitches. Oh well, it counts. One item off the bucket list. Thanks Aeros!
(All photos courtesy of the great Jon Cole/WFNY)
