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Gary
climber
Desolation Basin, Calif.
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eKat, you got a Wally Moon autograph? The Dodgers are playing a game at the Colosseum next year. One more chance for a Moon shot!
Wally Moon: number nine in your program, number one in your heart...
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TwistedCrank
climber
Caution: Filling may be hot.
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I was a kid in Chicago in 1969. We had vacant lot baseball games all day every day all summer. Games were often called on account of darkness. I had dreams of taking over at third base for the Cubbies when Ron Santo retired. There weren't batting cages or plastic helmets or aluminum bats or batting gloves or participant tropheys back then. Just a bunch of sun-baked boys with their Woolworth gloves smacking a filthy and well-beaten knot of leather around.
The Cubs were on their way to greatness that summer. Ernie Banks, Glenn Beckert, Don Kessinger, Ron Santo, Billy Williams, Randy Hundley, Fergie Jenkins, Ken Holtzman, Leo Durocher at the helm - those boys owned the National League. All was right in universe.
Then September came, the Cubs started losing and the Miracle Mets started winning. Winning hard. It was over.
That kind of thing hits a kid hard. I'm still realing from it almost 40 years later.
That's the gods truth.
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Brian in SLC
Social climber
Salt Lake City, UT
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Played baseball then softball for around 20 years.
As a kid, I inherted my dad's mitt, which looked like Charley Brown's (an old square-ish Mickey Mantle model, still have it). All the other kids had Bobby Bonds mitts, modern lookin', and dad has me playin' with the old school number, sayin' it works just fine. Little League Syndrome to the max. Kinda ruined it for me upon occasion.
Never had a super speedy fast ball, but, learned to toss an ok knuckle ball and screw ball. Too much arm time in other sports (track, weight lifting for football) wrecked the throwing arm a tad back then, though. Sometimes wish I'd have stuck with it just a tad more, and the other stuff a tad less.
Eventually, league play ate too much into outdoor sports. Miss it sometimes, though. Can't watch it much.
Bet a batting cage would be a huge embarrassment...not to mention the blisters... Still fun to toss the ball around, though. Thinkin' about it conjures up some memories...
-Brian in SLC
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LuckyPink
climber
the last bivy
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oh man, would love to see what Ken has archived re the Camp 4 games! scanners anyone?
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bachar
Trad climber
Mammoth Lakes, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 7, 2007 - 11:41am PT
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Where's the Climber - Ranger Trophy with all the inscriptions? does it still exist?
Ron - cool, thanks for the offer. These damn baseballs are effing expensive - we only got nine so far.
Wanderlust - I hadn't hit a ball in decades. You got to be relaxed but ready. Too much tension and it don't come out right. Way mental - reminds me of free solo mindset.
"Hitting is ninety percent mental. The other half is physical" - Yogi Berra
( I'm not sure that quote is accurate).
Festus - Man Russ used to be pretty suave looking - what happened?
Seriously, Russ has a very nice swing (good golf swing too).
Mimi - I remember that day. Chapman saw that nut on the table and I thought he was gonna explode. Me and Mike Graham had no idea Bridwell snaked your guys route. It was pretty suspicious when I got to the fixed nut on the second pitch however. Bridwell said he didn't know nuthin' about it!
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The Wolf
Trad climber
East SF Bay Area
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I started climbing at 15 and also played baseball. I still climb and still play baseball. Albiet a 45+ Senior Mens league. We have a lot of ex pros and college players (I played college and semi-pro)who can't always take the extra base but can still HIT!!
My kids are now climbing and playing baseball and I agree the concentration and ability to keep your emotions in check are similar.
One thing I did a was try some auto racing, to me that was closer to climbing. TOTAL CONCENTRATION and pushing hard at the edge of your ability and comfort level.
Wolf
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James
climber
A tent in the redwoods
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I sat in left field for two years picking four leaf clovers, and hoping that our pitcher, an enormous twelve year old with a cannon right arm, struck out the batters and didn't let one get lobbed to my neck of the woods. Never turned into much of a baseball star. Even at the age of ten, my coach, a big Mexican man with a starched baseball cap, told me I sucked. "You throw like a girl," he said every time I shot-putted the ball from outfield to second base.
Three or four years ago, I umpired a couple of the softball games behind the school in the Valley as part of my job with DNC's Employee Recreation. Steve, a Emplyee Rec cohort, stood behind the catcher and made all the official calls while I stood on the third base foul line, telling people when it popped over. I f*#ked up quite a few calls ; I stared at the Misty Wall too much.
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WanderlustMD
Trad climber
Lanham MD
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"I hadn't hit a ball in decades. You got to be relaxed but ready. Too much tension and it don't come out right. Way mental - reminds me of free solo mindset."
Yeah, I can see the connection you are making, though I don't solo enough offer any intelligent comment on that part of the relationship. But I do find that anytime I start to think about what I'm doing in an overly consious sense (especially as I'm doing it), I usually foul something up. The biggest challenge seems to be emptying the mind and being aware but not so aware as to prevent physical instinct and muscle memory from taking over.
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hashbro
Trad climber
Not in Southern California
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Hey Bachar, I clearly recall at least two rangers vs climbers games in the Valley which were super-fun and also seemed to reduce tensions between the two "adversaries."
Speaking of baseball, it was right around one of those games that I took a dangerous, sawmi-belted and pre-cam 35' footer on "Great Moments in Baseball". I ended up hanging off the two fixed pins with my belayer after pulling all my gear. I believe I had a few words for you and your well known love for baseball as I spund around and around under the roof....
Thanks dude.
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Matt
Trad climber
primordial soup
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BEAT LA
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Rick A
climber
Boulder, Colorado
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Nov 10, 2007 - 01:08pm PT
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Largo was playing high school ball when we started climbing.I never saw him play a game, but I know he had a great arm. I remember a time at Hidden Valley campground, sitting around with Richard and John one evening , desperately seeking entertainment. We start throwing rocks at various targets and it’s clear Largo is far better than Richard and me, both in accuracy and power.
John , a la Babe Ruth, points to the crag we are next to, maybe Blob Rock or one near it, and says,
“ I bet I can throw a rock over that.”
Richard immediately responds, “No way, there is no possible way you could do that.”
I’m with Richard. It’s hard to judge the distance, but we’re not talking about a campground boulder, were talking about a large, geologic formation.
“Not possible, John, you’re dreaming.”
Largo picks out a nice round rock that fits snugly in his hand and tosses it up and down a few times.. He runs a short ways and heaves it with impressive force. Richard and I watch intently, as the rock, like a cannon shot, heads towards the formation. I’m thinking it has to start falling now, but it doesn’t, it just keeps on going and going, up, up and over the entire crag!
Richard and I are speechless and just shake our heads, as John starts chuckling.
I know this sounds like a Paul Bunyon tale, but John’s athletic feats in those days often seemed larger than life.
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