Tagged: baseball

Focus On: I’m happy that happened early

Among the sold-out crowd at Memorial Stadium on Saturday was an unwelcome guest.

Some call it the first game jitters, but after a seven-error defensive performance that resulted in a 14-8 loss to Tri-City, it was more of a first-game seizure.

“I’m happy that happened early,” was what manager Franklin Font told me.

“For us, tonight was good. We saw some emotion. It was a poor defensive effort at times, as you could see in the final score. But they battled. This was their first time in front of 3,000 people. But for sure, we’re going to be all right.”

But my question is, how much does a crowd really play into it? Pitcher Jon Nagel had told me he thought the crowd was, “supportive and behind you the whole way. It was fun to pitch in front of them.”

But Font said it was more than just the attitude of the fans that may have encouraged some lax defense, it was the elements that come with pro baseball.

“You can’t always tell from the stands, but the game is coming at you real fast. But this is a smart group. They’re good players. They’ve never had seven errors in a game, and they will be good tomorrow. They were excited to see the fans, and had that excited rush. This is a different level.”

Different level for sure.

The day before, they were playing a team without matching jerseys, and they were the ones that looked defensively sound.

Nagel gave me his perspective, which was closer to the field than mine, and much more rooted in a knowledge of the guys he’s playing with.

“As a pitcher you just want to make pitches and let them handle the ball. You want to get in a groove and hope they’re staying on their toes. I mean, it’s about trust all the time. You can’t go out there and think you need to get everyone out at the plate. I know the guys behind me, and they’re all good. The only reason I’ll look good is if I trust everyone else.”

When your job is a nine-inning baseball game, and you have 75 more coming up, it makes sense to close the book after the game and start working on the next one.

I’m the lucky guy that starts his real work when the book closes, so those small notes become a lot bigger on the screen.

But the fact is, the Hawks are playing the Dust Devils for at least 27 innings this series, and after nine, the stats book have reset.

The seven errors are gone when they hit the field on Sunday, and a team without an excuse of jitters will be filling the lineup card.

“Four days ago these guys were not up here,” Font said. “Even I was somewhere else, and some of my guys were managing elsewhere. But it’s baseball. We’ll be ready tomorrow. We’re playing the same guys as we did tonight. Only, it’s going to be a different game.”

Focus On: It all depends on your perspective

I can deal with tune-up games.

But when you play six innings and you finish with a 21-2 win, the game looks less like a tune-up and more like the Harlem Globetrotters against the Washington Generals.

The question is, have the Washinton Generals ever been leading after one frame?

When the Boise Hawks took on a team of Treasure Valley “All-Stars” to open their season, that’s how it started. A team of 25 and up (mostly up) led after the first inning.

It’s never a good sign when it’s pouring outside, and the rain is taking second place to what’s happening on the field in dampening the moods of the fans.

So maybe I was just approaching the game in the wrong way. Maybe assuming the linescore is the most important aspect of the final product of a game is a mistake.

When I saw Friday’s game I saw a drubbing, I saw rain allowing for a small group of dedicated fans, and I had to find out how the athletes saw it. This could not have been good for the guys.

“This was good for the guys,” Hawks hitting coach Ricardo Medina said.

Won’t be the last time I swing and miss.

“Where we come from, we were playing all day games. These guys need to know the feels of the game, the adrenaline. This was like opening day. I think this was more than enough to get us ready. I mean, look at the fans that were there. In Mesa we were playing for a scorekeeper and three or four fans.”

If the guys playing in Friday’s game thought the 50-something fans that showed up were a big group, I can’t wait to see their reaction on Saturday’s opener.

So I took the time to talk to a couple fans, a player from both sides, a wife of an “All-Star” and found something very interesting.

Not one person I talked to was seeing the same thing from the game.

The fan saw the 21 runs, and worried about how it would affect the losing players. The wife was so giddy about her husband playing against professional athletes, I’m not sure she even noticed the game was going on outside her camera’s lens.

Honestly, I won’t mention his name, (Mike Blackham), but if you see someone add a 650-picture folder on their facebook profile this weekend, it was this guy’s wife. And I think it was the most charming thing I could have seen at the game, just edging out the great potato race, of course.

With 21 runs on the board, one hit for her husband’s team, and seven errors (although I’m fairly certain they stopped counting them in the second), all she could think was how proud she was that he was playing.

So what did the athletes see on the board?

Every player I talked to told me the same thing. They saw the errors.

Apparently it doesn’t matter what level of an athlete you are, the fundamentals will stick out.

But instead of sharing my opinion of the team thus far (you’ll get plenty of that as the season progresses), I’ll turn to Blackham and his thoughts of the Hawks.

“They’re just baseball players,” he said. “They’re just twice as fast. And I don’t mean just the pitchers or the running. I mean, the insticts and the discipline.

These guys would hit a blooper, and you turn around and you see them on second and think, ‘What the hell?'”

It’s easy to sit at a game with rain, and watch the pro baseball players go down in the first inning and think it’s going to be a long year.

Thanks to Blackham and his wife for reminding me that baseball isn’t just a sport.

It’s a game.

And every person in the park on any given day will take something different from it.

All it took was a wife and her athlete to remind me that the players in Boise are something special.

They may be young, but there’s a reason they’re among the select thousands of baseball players that can be called true professionals.

Today those “All Stars” are waking up in their lives as a civil engineer, or teacher, or writer.

They’ve played their season.

The Boise Hawks haven’t even played their first real game. On Saturday their players start or continue their careers in a very special tradition handed down every year in baseball.

And they call it, opening day.

Focus On: This is where the studs come together

I’ve been around baseball enough to know Minor League ball is naturally fickle.

One day you have a pitcher, and the next day the same number is for a catcher from Venezuela.

But the Boise Hawks have made so many roster and staff changes this season before first pitch that they’re seeming less like a baseball team and more like the drumming credits for Spinal Tap.

Menudo has had more stability of members.

So, I naturally wanted to talk to Franklin Font and his staff about how they’re approaching this season.

Font simply said, “Last week I got the call that I was going to manage, and now I’m here. I’ve been here before, and we’re going to practice and work on development like any other time.”

You can’t fault Font for his approach. His title is, after all, interim manager. There’s no telling how long that “interim” might be. But his respect for manager Casey Kopitzke after the family tragedy that has unfolded is truly remarkable.

Font said he hasn’t talked to Kopitzke, but has left a voicemail, like all the coaches on the staff, expressing his condolences.

Out of respect, that’s as far as I’ll address that matter.

What has come out of the situation, however, is what I consider the real story. You have Font managing with a staff full of experience and personality. In fact, his minor league field coordinator, Dave Bialas was Font’s manager for the Cubs’ AA affiliate in 2001.

Bialas told me, “I have no doubt this team is in good hands. Font has managed. (Hitting coach Ricardo) Medina has managed. These guys know our system. They know what we want.”

Bialas said the unique vast quantity of players from Mesa (the Cubs Rookie League affiliate) is going to help the coaching staff more than any bond the coaches already have.

While the fact that only three draftees will be on the opening-day roster may sound bad, the fact that the players NOT drafted have played together since spring training is a note that can’t be missed.

The team is already steps ahead in chemistry.

At the time I had talked to Bialas, he and the staff had only been able to talk to the team a couple times. But I was interested what a man with his experience would tell me about the guys Boise fans will be cheering on.

That’s when Bialas told me something that hasn’t left my mind since.

As a writer, I’ve come to appreciate any comment an athlete or coach can give me that I can use in my own writing and make myself sound brilliant.

Bialas said, “These guys aren’t just baseball players. These guys are studs. When they were in high school, they were the studs at their high school. If they were in college, they were the studs in their college. It doesn’t matter where they came from, they were the studs. This is where the studs come together.”

So I’m going to leave you with his words.

This is minor league baseball, and the chemistry of the team will never be complete. Players will get called up, sent down and cut, but that has been true since farm systems came into existence, and the Boise Hawks have been an incredibly successful organization.

Why is that? The answer lies in the players that come through this town.

It’s because Boise is where the studs come together.

Focus On: The First Barrier

I can’t imagine being an athlete, and I mean that quite literally.

My greatest athletic prowess comes at a bowling alley, and even there I’m beat by 8-year old schoolgirls with a bright pink ball. Maybe that’s why I fit so well behind the KTIK microphone, the KBOI board, or writing this.

Last night was my chance to meet some real athletes: the Boise Hawks, and if there’s one thing that struck me from the first moment, it was the sense of utter confusion in the room.

Players had specialized and translated paperwork laid before them like some sort of standardized tests, and the conversations among some players were limited because of a language barrier.

At one point every player was seated and concentrated on their tasks of paperwork and attempts at bridging language gaps, while I got up and got myself another Pepsi.

That was officially the last time I will ever be more physically active than any one of those players.

I haven’t seen the players throw, catch, or swing at a ball yet, but I think it’s easy to tell a good clubhouse guy from a bad apple. So, I can tell you now, the respect the men had for each other, and the mutual feeling of a first day in school that was written on each of their faces showed a pretty good sign of a group of men ready to do Northwest League battle. 
These are professional baseball players. Yet each one stood, having to share their names, their hometown and their position. Then, as if the awkwardness of homework, public introduction and linguistic confusion wasn’t enough, the house parents were paraded in front of them, each giving a pitch like it was eHarmony, and the players were allowed to find out what family they would end up living with.

I’ll spare you on the details of how this went down, but if you have the history I had playing athletics, you’re expecting an elementary school gym teacher numbering you off and sending you on your way.

This was more like Wall Street, with less yelling and better prospects.

But after all was said and done, and the families had all taken their respective player home, I had the chance to mull over what I had seen.

There were plenty that had struggled with standing in front of a crowd, and I could tell some were even uncertain about the families that had chosen them as their live-in guest. Those that had spoken English tried to help those that couldn’t, while the paid translators had fulfilled their duty of keeping their respective players comfortable. And after all of it, one thing was very clear.

It didn’t matter if the player spoke English fluently, partially or not at all.

These men speak baseball.

When it comes to game time, they’ll understand every pitch and every swing.

The language barrier is like the first base line. It won’t be going away, but its lore is nothing more than superstition. Give these guys a half-inning of playing ball and they won’t even notice when they hop over it on their way to the dugout.