About the Off-Season: A Boy’s Game

About the Off-Season: A Boy’s Game

By Tim Kabel

January 25, 2025

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This article will be a little different.  How many times can I speculate about who the next third baseman for the Yankees will be? How many times can I write that the Yankees should get at least one left-handed relief pitcher? Spring Training will be opening in a couple of weeks. The Yankees still have some moves to make and I'm sure they will make them. I want to focus on a different topic today.

My son, Jack, is in his final year of Graduate School. He is a Dean’s List student, who works and plays Division One baseball for Quinnipiac University. He is a left-handed pitcher. He went to Nichols College for his undergraduate degree. He lives at home and commutes. He said something the other day that made me think a lot. He told me that he had just completed preseason physical testing for baseball. He said that it will be the last time he ever does it.

I remember vividly bringing him to t-ball for games and practices. After that, he worked his way up through Little League. When he was very young, he would literally play the field. If he was playing first base and a pop up was hit to third base, he would rush over and catch it.

Eventually he learned to curb his enthusiasm. He was a switch-hitting left-handed throwing player. He played first base and the outfield. In Little League, he was very good. However, some of the coaches indicated that he was a notch below some of the other kids.

Interestingly, those kids were frequently the coach’s sons. Anyway, Jack stuck with baseball.

He practiced in all kinds of weather. He was always outside working on his game, which meant, I was frequently outside working on his game. Jack is a gifted baseball player. I was only gifted on my birthday and Christmas. I would hit him ground balls, pop ups, and fly balls. I would throw balls to him. He would throw them back and I would often miss catching them.

When he learned to pitch, I would attempt to catch his pitches. That worked for a little while until he threw so hard that my hand started to throb. The curveball was another adventure. He once threw one that eluded my mitt entirely and bounced off both knees. Other than my mustache, I had no resemblance whatsoever to Thurman Munson.

I brought Jack to a local baseball program for some hitting and pitching lessons. The owner, a very gruff fellow named Bob Turcio, who once hit a baseball out of the Yale Bowl and was the nation’s leading collegiate hitter in his senior year of college, was very impressed. He asked if Jack could play with his team until he went to college. He did. 

I always thought that Jack would become a centerfielder, because he was fast, had a strong throwing arm, and was a switch-hitter. I never imagined when he was young that his greatest success would come as a pitcher. Not only did he pitch in AAU, but he also pitched on his high school team and became the team captain when he was a senior. In his junior year of high school, he played in the AAU World Series in New Mexico. The thrill of listening to a radio broadcast with your son pitching in a game is hard to describe.

Jack’s ability on the baseball field combined with his grades helped him to get into a very fine college, where he earned top grades and graduated with honors. In addition, it earned him the opportunity to go to Graduate School and play on a Division One team. For my 60th birthday, he gave me a glass case shaped like home plate that is filled with baseballs from games that he pitched in his career. On top of it is the plate from his locker. It is one of my most prized possessions. 

I have many, many memories from my son's baseball career. I was the one who drove him to the tournaments in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and other places. We even went to a tournament in Myrtle Beach. I loved those road trips. Many times, it was just the two of us. The amount of father-son bonding that occurred is impossible to calculate. I saw a game in which he struck out 16 batters in a seven-inning game. One time my other son, Oliver, came with us to a three-day tournament on Long Island.  Naturally, we went to Sagamore Hill.

Jack’s pitching ability, leadership, drive, and dedication carried him through his entire baseball career. Now that his career may be coming to an end, I'm not filled with sadness. I'm filled with pride and admiration. The little boy who I took to t-ball practice has become a man who I am proud to call my son. I'm sure he will continue to play on some level because baseball is such a part of him. But once he enters the workforce, it will become secondary. 

Sometimes, I think about all the kids who started with him. Many of them dropped out at each level. There were some who never went past t-ball and others who didn't make it out of Little League. Most of his AAU teammates are no longer playing. My son will be 24 years old this summer and he is still playing competitive, Division One baseball. That is a tremendous accomplishment, and it speaks to his ability and his character to stay with something for so long. 

Due to my health issues, I have not been able to go to his games in recent years, but I have watched them online. If possible, I would love to attend a game this season. Yet, i have hundreds of memories. Yes, I have memories of the games, but I also have memories of the long car rides, the conversations, the laughs and the side trips we would take. Sometimes we reminisce about a pizza place or an old-fashioned diner we went to.

I think the best part about my son's baseball career is not the accomplishments he made on the field, which are impressive, but rather, the places that baseball took him. Baseball helped him to get into college and Graduate School. He has taken full advantage of those opportunities.

I am very certain that he will have a successful life and career once he finishes his education. Being part of that process and being part of those trips and his development as a baseball player and as a man is one of the things I am proudest of in my life. The chapter of his life as a baseball player may be coming to an end, but the story of his life will continue and has been shaped, in part, by his experiences with baseball.