Now this is a *great* thread.

    Me as a ballplayer... Well, the career is over for the time being, so I think a couple of years of separation has probably made my hindsight a bit more accurate. Here goes:

    Around when I turned 7, baseball became the only thing that really mattered in life. I was and still am hugely competitive- I hated losing more than anything I could possibly imagine, and sometimes cried after losses when I was younger, and moreover got pissed at kids on my team who weren't crying because I almost felt they weren't trying hard enough. (I've since moved to CA and lost some but not all of that East Coast, type A edge.)

    I was a shortstop/pitcher earlier on, then a 3B/P later in my "career." I had average to slightly above average power, hit pretty well for average, a sometimes fantastic but inconsistent glove, and while I had average speed, I was a great baserunner because I wanted extra bases more than oxygen and ran smart. I did, at least at one time, have a cannon, and I've never been prouder than one time I threw a kid out trying to score from second on a single to me in center, a perfect one-hopper throw, and my dad, sitting on the 3rd base line, went absolutely apeshit. It was great. I later became more of a junk pitcher, and threw two no-hitters that way.

    I was one of those kids that is hugely talented in 4th grade, talented in 6th grade, above average in 10th grade... Then the numbers start to work against you, because only the really good kids are playing baseball any more. My one gripe is that I really got politicked out of a spot on the freshman baseball team, and there were kids on that team that had sat behind me in little league whose parents happened to be town selectmen. That sucked. Anyway, I transferred to another school and started playing lacrosse because I was sick of the politics. Too bad. I missed and still miss playing, and on a sidenote, if I settle in Boston after college, I'd be interested in a fast-pitch hardball league in the area. Any thoughts?

    My style of playing was scrappy, intense. I enjoyed the game, but goddammit, I wanted to *WIN*. I dove for everything, took an extra base on wild pitch walks, loved to crash into catchers and get hit by pitches, and be crashed into when I was playing catcher or wherever. I LOVED STEALING HOME, and did it a half-dozen times, once during a Babe Ruth All-Star game. I just loved getting dirty. I always tried to get every small advantage possible, stealing signs, distracting a pitcher by dancing off third, and all sorts of other gamesmanship, anything I didn't consider cheating. I was a sort of a Pete Rose type (minus the talent and the gambling), not hugely physically gifted but wanting it more than anyone else on the field.

    Finally, the highlight of my career: Steven Langone is now a senior at BC, don't know if he's been drafted yet. He was/is a top prospect, and when he was in 7th grade, I was in 6th, and he was FEARED in our little league. No one hit him. He threw a lot of no-hitters. Struck out 10-15 kids a game. He just plain didn't belong with people in his own age group, he was just that good. Anyway, this one year our two teams were in contention for the league title, and in our first game, he got me down 0-2 and then I fouled off about 8 or 10 pitches (maybe it was only 6-8, but it grows as it ages) and the last few just got closer and closer to the right field line, all 70mph fastballs, which were terrifying back in the day. Finally he throws me a curveball and I K and I'm FURIOUS, but our whole team is so psyched that someone went that deep in the count against Langone that they're all applauding and sort of impressed and the parents are all applauding and my Dad swears to this day that Langone sort of smiled and rolled his eyes, as if he could only get me on a curve.

    The last game of the season is against the same team, and we're losing in the 6th inning, like 9-3, and the game's basically over and they're going to win the league title, but I'm leading off, again against Langone, and right before I head up there one of the coaches asks me if I have another homer left in me (I think I was second on the team with 4. Ah, those were the days before the juiced ball :)) First pitch, high outside fastball, and I plaster it over the right field fence, and I did my Duke Snider home run trot around third, the short, choppy steps. It was all downhill from there- I thought I might play in college, but then I came to Stanford, and, uh... no dice.

    Anyway, that's more than you wanted to hear, but it felt good to say, especially in these winter doldrums. I get the feeling a lot of us fall into that mold: loving the game more than life itself, brutally competitive (given some of the arguments about Sadler...), above average athletes but just not D1 or pro caliber, but making up for some of that by playing smarter and harder than the average bear.

    Man, I miss playing baseball. Sometimes I forget how much I miss playing baseball.

    -The Tree

    P.S. I still think the most exciting thing in this world, better than sex or any drug or money or anything, is that breathless moment as you're about to round second and you decide that the center fielder is not going to pick it up cleanly and you're going to try to stretch a double into a triple and it's the most reckless thing in the world and you turn to look at the 3B coach and you just have no idea how it's going to turn out. It's just that exciting. Sigh. I miss that. It's better than hitting a home run, and it lasts longer too.

    -Evan Meagher

    "People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring."

    -Rogers Hornsby