A Field of Dreamers

A Curious Man

He was always there.

Practice. Intrasquad, or an actual game. Regardless of the weather, he was always there – watching.

We had moved to Park City in July of 2003, and my boys quickly became involved in Baseball, Football, Basketball, and Skiing. Gone were the 100-degree plus days of Texas heat – and the fire ants.

God how I hated fire ants.

With each of my 3 sons in elementary and junior high school, we didn't get to the high school field much over the first two years of living in Park City, but in the summer of 2005, once Austin became an incoming freshman, I was there all the time.

At first, I didn't see him.

Perhaps it was because he demanded no attention. He was more a fixture of the surroundings than an actual person. I figure it must have taken me half of the freshman fall season to even recognize that someone was actually sitting there along the 3rd base line - but from that moment on, I began to watch this curious man in the folding chair watching our boys and scribbling in his scorebook.

He always sat alone – just past 3rd base, with exception of a small Bischon-Yorkie mix dog, named Ranger, who was always at his side. He was an older man, perhaps in his early 60's. He always wore a Utah Utes windbreaker and baseball cap, button-down blue-gray checked shirt, blue-denim jeans and black ostrich cowboy boots.

You could set a clock on his punctuality.

He showed up 15 minutes before each practice and game – and was always the last person to leave the field (I would know, I watched him leave many times). When practice or a game was cancelled, and the message was missed, you might see the occasional parent or player at the field wondering what happened - but this man was never there. When a practice or game was rescheduled, he was there before anyone else.

How could he know?

He spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him. He seemed to like it that way. He appeared to be as disconnected to all life around him-but hard-wired to every baseball activity on our field.

He didn't miss a step.

He just sat there in his strapped folding chair with a bag of seeds, a cup of coffee, and tattered scorebook –always watching and writing. His loyal companion asleep at his feet.

His cowboy boots told of a previous life - a better life; but to look at him today, he looked as if life had left him at the front door a long time ago, and never turned off the porch light.

A life just going through the motions.

Over time, it became obvious to me that the man knew much about the Game of Baseball. As I continued to watch him through that fall season, he would always become animated before anything ever happened on the field. He seemed to always know where a ball would be hit, when the runner was going, or the type of play the offense or defense was calling, before anyone else did - even the coaches and the players. As the play developed, you could see a satisfied look appear on his face as he furiously-scribbled his observations into his scorebook.

A very curious man.

By the 2005-06 season, my oldest son, Austin, was an incoming freshman. His new coach, Coach Buster Schwab, took a liking to Austin, and offered him the opportunity to play Catcher. It was bittersweet moment as Austin rarely got a sniff of the infield when he played in Texas, with exception of the times he would pitch. Until our move to Utah, he was always platooned as a right fielder (just like his father!). The reality of Texas baseball was that there were just too many other good players who were bigger - or more developed than him at the time. I still think back to those days, and know that if we remained, it was just a matter of time before he'd walk away from the game he loved most.