Speaker 1: Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves.
Speaker 1: From coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
Speaker 1: I want you to stay a while as I share
Speaker 1: my experiences in life lessons. This Country Life is presented
Speaker 1: by Case Knives on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you
Speaker 1: the best outdoor podcast the airwaves have to offer. All right, friends,
Speaker 1: grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some
Speaker 1: stories to share. Baseball. If there's a closed second to
Speaker 1: spending time in the outdoors. For me, it's baseball, and
Speaker 1: for someone who never played it beyond high school, it
Speaker 1: remains a passion. For me. I only follow a handful
Speaker 1: of players, and I actually met them last year on
Speaker 1: a coon hunt. They invited me to go on with them.
Speaker 1: Aiden and Grant Anderson are brothers. They're twins, and they're pitchers.
Speaker 1: Aiden is in the Texas Rangers organization and Grant pitches
Speaker 1: for the Milwaukee Brewers. Now, the funny thing about that
Speaker 1: is when they talk to me, all they want to
Speaker 1: talk about is coon hunting, and all I want to
Speaker 1: talk about is baseball. Now, I couldn't tell you off
Speaker 1: the top of my head who won the last World
Speaker 1: Series without thinking about it real hard, and even then
Speaker 1: it would probably be just a guess. Besides the Anderson brothers,
Speaker 1: the last stats I kept up with were mine when
Speaker 1: I played. I just liked the game, the history and
Speaker 1: the romance of it. For me, it's truly America's pastime.
Speaker 1: Bailey and I go to a lot of games here
Speaker 1: the Arkansas Travelers, which are the Double A affiliate of
Speaker 1: the Seattle Mariners. A perfect even for us is to
Speaker 1: grab a hot dog or a fried bologna sandwich at
Speaker 1: the game for supper and cheer for the Travelers and
Speaker 1: clap along with the guy playing the organ. We don't
Speaker 1: know any of the players because the good ones don't
Speaker 1: stick around long. They neither do the bad ones. The
Speaker 1: good ones move on up to the big leagues, and
Speaker 1: the other guys they just move on. But the atmosphere
Speaker 1: is all about family and fun, two things that I
Speaker 1: never get enough of. I've got a lot to talk about,
Speaker 1: so let's get to it. This past week we were
Speaker 1: on vacation, soaking up the sun on the Emerald Coast
Speaker 1: of Florida. The main point of our journey was threefold.
Speaker 1: One was for Bailey to see the ocean for the
Speaker 1: first time. Another one was to watch the son of
Speaker 1: friends play in an original World Series Baseball tournament, and
Speaker 1: to relax and enjoy each other's company. All of those
Speaker 1: things in no particular However, Bailey seeing the ocean for
Speaker 1: the first time during her short tenure here on Earth
Speaker 1: was accomplished first in only minutes after we set our
Speaker 1: bags down inside the big house we'd rented for the week.
Speaker 1: She tried to play a cool but you could see
Speaker 1: the excitement in her eyes as she gazed out at
Speaker 1: the horizon, seeing nothing but incoming waves and the occasional seagull.
Speaker 1: A few seconds after her first glimpse, she was standing
Speaker 1: in the surf, staring south at infinity and literally and
Speaker 1: figuratively soaking it all in clouds in the evening golf
Speaker 1: breeze kept the temperature bay. It was the perfect introduction
Speaker 1: the rest of us in George seeing her see it
Speaker 1: for the first time, as much as we did see
Speaker 1: in it ourselves. I asked her later what she thought
Speaker 1: about it. I was expecting to lecture on why hadn't
Speaker 1: we brought her here before? Now? The last time we
Speaker 1: went to the beach, she was still three years away
Speaker 1: from entering the reeves. Family chat, and she said I
Speaker 1: liked it and I would like to go again sometime,
Speaker 1: but it smelled weird and I'd rather go to the mountains.
Speaker 1: I did not see that coming from a girl who
Speaker 1: almost has to be made to wear anything other than
Speaker 1: shorts at gunpoint. Daddy, if you say we're going to
Speaker 1: the beach, I'll be ready to go and have a
Speaker 1: good time. But if you give me a choice that's
Speaker 1: not New York City, I'm picking the mountains. The mountains
Speaker 1: for the love of humanity. It seems there's a tiny
Speaker 1: little hillbilly hiding inside her head. I blame Clay. They
Speaker 1: counting two sets of parents, two sets of grandparents, a girlfriend,
Speaker 1: a best friend, and all the children, we had enough
Speaker 1: folks to fill the baseball team and a basketball team.
Speaker 1: Fourteen ar Kansas listed on the program as family either
Speaker 1: by blood or choice, and we were all there to
Speaker 1: watch baseball. It's no secret that our family loves baseball
Speaker 1: and has for as far back as I can remember.
Speaker 1: Every cotton picking one of us, my brothers, me and
Speaker 1: anyone we could scrounge up around the farm to play
Speaker 1: baseball from our friends that lived only a bike's ride
Speaker 1: away or the occasional farmhan. The American pastime was our pastime.
Speaker 1: Now we played a game called five dollars. One person
Speaker 1: with bat balls to the rest of us positioned all
Speaker 1: around the yard, either by himself or if we had
Speaker 1: plenty of folks, someone would pitch. Every fly ball you
Speaker 1: caught was worth a dollar. Every groundball you caught was
Speaker 1: worth fifty cents. And when your total catch is added
Speaker 1: up to exactly five dollars, it was your turn to
Speaker 1: bat make an air filled and a grounder or a
Speaker 1: fly ball, and you'd lose the value of whatever ball
Speaker 1: that was. Now another game we played with it's called
Speaker 1: flies and skinners. That was basically scored the same way.
Speaker 1: Once you caught the predetermined amount of each, it was
Speaker 1: your turn to back and we spent hours and hours
Speaker 1: playing each in our three acre front yard. It took
Speaker 1: forever to mow it, but when we finished it, man,
Speaker 1: it was quite the ballpark. Breaks would come and we
Speaker 1: drank from the hose, or someone would have a watermelon busted,
Speaker 1: and we'd go through one of them like grass goes
Speaker 1: through a goose. It wouldn't last long. Then back to
Speaker 1: the game. Baseball to us was just a natural part
Speaker 1: of summer. It could be too hot to fish, and
Speaker 1: by that I mean it could be too hot for
Speaker 1: the fish to bite. But it was never too hot
Speaker 1: to play baseball, never, regardless of the time of day.
Speaker 1: They say you can always go home when you can't
Speaker 1: go anywhere else. Well, for us, when you couldn't do
Speaker 1: anything else outside, you could always play baseball. Being inside
Speaker 1: was not an option. There were three channels on the TV,
Speaker 1: and unless you like soap operas or sesime street, outside
Speaker 1: was where the fun took place, no matter of the temperature.
Speaker 1: I've told the story before, but I accentuated a different
Speaker 1: part of it, And for those who haven't heard it,
Speaker 1: I'm going to tell it again, and I'm going to
Speaker 1: give you the reader's digest version of it. And it's
Speaker 1: a good story. I like to hear it myself. But
Speaker 1: after a hot summer day of playing baseball in the
Speaker 1: front yard, we took a break to go inside any dinner,
Speaker 1: which is what the rest of humanity calls lunch, except
Speaker 1: for a few of us die hard traditions. Anyway, my
Speaker 1: brother Tim was a senior in high school, my brother
Speaker 1: Chuck was a sophomore, and I was headed to the
Speaker 1: sixth grade, all the chores had been done. It was
Speaker 1: too hot for anything else but baseball. A metric ton
Speaker 1: of fried bologna, sandwiches, potato chips, a kool aid later,
Speaker 1: and the game was about to start. I was first
Speaker 1: out the door, and there laid the bat, a thirty
Speaker 1: two inch wood at a Rondack baseball bat made from
Speaker 1: the finest white ash a Yankee tree farmer could grow.
Speaker 1: The handle was thin and it fit my hands good,
Speaker 1: even though it could have been a few inches shorter.
Speaker 1: It was light and I could handle it well. And
Speaker 1: I heard my brothers talking inside the house as I
Speaker 1: stood on the porch, and they were arguing over whose
Speaker 1: turn it was to bat. It was my turn, I
Speaker 1: called it before we stopped to eat. They must not
Speaker 1: have heard me. Oh they heard me, all right. They
Speaker 1: just didn't care. But I cared, and I'd had enough
Speaker 1: of them cheating me out of my turn. They could
Speaker 1: run faster than me and would jump in front of
Speaker 1: me when I was only a fly or a skinner
Speaker 1: away from batting. Now they were gonna jyp me out
Speaker 1: of starting off the afternoon session, so I decided to
Speaker 1: kill the first one that walked out the door. Now,
Speaker 1: not really, but I was just going to give them
Speaker 1: a little wat four on top of the nogging with
Speaker 1: that bat. When they stepped out on the porch. Mama
Speaker 1: had an old milk churn sitting beside the front door
Speaker 1: on the left side, and to compensate for them being
Speaker 1: taller than me, I stood up on that churn and
Speaker 1: I waited for the first one to step outside the door.
Speaker 1: Didn't matter to me which one it was. They had
Speaker 1: both dashed at my expense, and now it was time
Speaker 1: to pay the fiddler. It sounded like a cartoon bunk
Speaker 1: when the barrel of that bat made square contact with
Speaker 1: the top of Ten's head. He staggered toward the edge
Speaker 1: of the porch, trying not to lose his balance, and
Speaker 1: during the three or four seconds he fought to stay conscious.
Speaker 1: I realized then that I had chosen poorly. He caught
Speaker 1: me before I made it in the loft of the barn.
Speaker 1: I was wandering away from sanctuary and being able to
Speaker 1: keep him beat away from the only access to the
Speaker 1: loft until Mama got home. But I was not built
Speaker 1: for speed, a malady that has haunted me all my life.
Speaker 1: He had me squalling in very short ones now. That
Speaker 1: sound and one other stand out to me as core
Speaker 1: memories associated with baseball. Both of them attributed to the
Speaker 1: crack of a bat. The other one was my first
Speaker 1: home run. I don't know how many I hit in
Speaker 1: the Little League. If you told me that the one
Speaker 1: I'm going to tell you about now was the only one,
Speaker 1: I couldn't argue with you, because that one shocked me
Speaker 1: more than it did anyone else. I was batting clean up,
Speaker 1: and Darryl Harvey, a classmate and childhood friend, was pitching
Speaker 1: for the opposition, Merchants and Planners Bank. It was early
Speaker 1: in the season and every team was scratching and clawing
Speaker 1: to establish themselves as the ones to beat. I played
Speaker 1: for Harvest Brothers, our dealership in town. Our uniforms were
Speaker 1: green jerseys trimmed in white and yellow breeches with white
Speaker 1: pinstripes that stopped just below the knee, and green baseball
Speaker 1: stirrups worn over white socks. I wore number five, like
Speaker 1: my favorite Major leaguer, George Brett of the Kansas City Royals.
Speaker 1: The count was two and two, and I had looked
Speaker 1: at four pitches and never took the bat off my shoulder.
Speaker 1: I looked at the first base coach, mister Mike Meedy,
Speaker 1: and he looked back at me as if to say,
Speaker 1: why are you toting that bat if you ain't gonna
Speaker 1: swing it. I checked third base and mister Pat Vallentine
Speaker 1: was looking at me the same way. Time to go
Speaker 1: to work. Brand Darrell started his wind up and groove
Speaker 1: a fastball right down the middle of the plate. They
Speaker 1: looked as big as a pone of corn bread. I
Speaker 1: sent it over the fence and left center with the
Speaker 1: easiest swing I've ever taken. It was almost effortless, and
Speaker 1: the sound of that ball leaving that wooden was pure
Speaker 1: and unmistakable. Nothing else sounds like it, and when you
Speaker 1: hear it, you know it right away. Ted Williams, arguably
Speaker 1: one of the greatest hitters of all times, said the
Speaker 1: hardest thing to do in baseball is to hit a
Speaker 1: round baseball with a round bat squarely. I'd say that's right,
Speaker 1: considering that if you do that three times out of
Speaker 1: ten over the course of your professional career, you go
Speaker 1: to the Hall of Fame. I looked up at mister
Speaker 1: Meadie as I touched first base during my victory lab
Speaker 1: and I remember him smiling and pat me on the
Speaker 1: back and saying, slow down, son, they can't get you out.
Speaker 1: Hitting home runs was easy. I decided, right then, I
Speaker 1: do that every time. I had three more bats during
Speaker 1: that beatdown of merchants and planters, and Daryl struck me
Speaker 1: out all three times. Hitting homers wasn't as easy as
Speaker 1: I thought. Another front yard baseball session that summer was
Speaker 1: interrupted when our brother Chuck walked out on the porch
Speaker 1: to tell Tim and I that Elvis died. It was
Speaker 1: August sixteenth, nineteen seventy seven. I remember what Chuck was
Speaker 1: wearing when he walked out on the porch to tell us.
Speaker 1: I can see it as plain as day. It's funny
Speaker 1: the things you remember that are associated with historic events.
Speaker 1: Baseball has been intertwined with reural life as much more
Speaker 1: than any other sport, The threads of each woven in
Speaker 1: the fabric of Americana that remained as true today as
Speaker 1: they did back then. Bats for kids are aluminum now,
Speaker 1: with teams having multiple uniforms, and batting gloves and sliding
Speaker 1: gloves and fielding gloves and pitching gloves, and games played
Speaker 1: on turf painted to look like dirt with removable mouths
Speaker 1: to accommodate different levels of baseball. The constant throughout is
Speaker 1: the baseball itself, nine to nine and a quarter inches
Speaker 1: in circumference and await between five and five in the
Speaker 1: quarter ounces. Now, we watched kids from all over the
Speaker 1: country play ball in the impressive Florida heat, and I
Speaker 1: was reminded immediately of how hot it was when we
Speaker 1: played it home, and how, just like me back then,
Speaker 1: they didn't seem to notice it much. Teammates, friends, coaches, umpires, family,
Speaker 1: people of all ages gathered to watch a game, a
Speaker 1: game played by children who some grown ups expected to
Speaker 1: perform like adults, and when they didn't, those grown ups
Speaker 1: acted like children. Now there wasn't much of it. In fact,
Speaker 1: there was very little, but we all know it happens.
Speaker 1: Our boys played well, They tried hard, and they battled
Speaker 1: back after two initial losses, and they finished well. They
Speaker 1: didn't win the series, but they didn't finish last either,
Speaker 1: And had they lost every game but tried and above
Speaker 1: all else to win, you'd have to count that as
Speaker 1: a success as well. What will it matter ten years
Speaker 1: from now? It won't. They'll always remember that experience, but
Speaker 1: they'll remember in detail how hard they tried, or if
Speaker 1: they didn't. I vaguely remember the sight of that first
Speaker 1: home run boss settling over that fence in nineteen seventy seven,
Speaker 1: but I remember vividly walking back to the dugout with
Speaker 1: my friends, cheering and laughing and celebrating together. It was
Speaker 1: an individual achievement that stands in the shadow of a
Speaker 1: team celebration. And whether you're playing for Harvests Brothers Little
Speaker 1: League team and Warren Arkansas where the Kansas City rolls,
Speaker 1: it doesn't matter because so your breeches can be above
Speaker 1: your knee or down around jangles. You can swing a
Speaker 1: metal bat or one made from wood. You can play
Speaker 1: under the lights or under the sun. But at every
Speaker 1: level you have to hit, throw, and catch the three
Speaker 1: elements of baseball. Everything else it's just extra. That's how
Speaker 1: kids can gather in any space where, in anything, with
Speaker 1: nothing other than a stick and a ball and have fun.
Speaker 1: It really is. That's simple. Food, shelter, and clothing are
Speaker 1: the three basic necessities of life. We add things to
Speaker 1: it to make it more enjoyable, exciting, rewarding, or comfortable,
Speaker 1: whatever adjective you want to use for every desired amenity,
Speaker 1: the same holds true for baseball, signs for hitting, signs
Speaker 1: for stealing, signs for pitching, shifting the outfield, shifting the infield,
Speaker 1: lefties versus rightings, and all the analytics that go into
Speaker 1: the game. Now, the game can theoretically go on forever.
Speaker 1: Like life, you're not exactly sure when it will end.
Speaker 1: That's the allure for me in The main similarity I
Speaker 1: see in each of them is life like baseball is
Speaker 1: about and join the game. It can be in the
Speaker 1: front yard of a country home, an empty lot in town,
Speaker 1: a little league field at the YMC eight, or the
Speaker 1: finest manicured field in the Major leagues. Baseball is a
Speaker 1: game that mirrors the ebb and flow of life metaphor
Speaker 1: for patience and practice, skill of being able to hit
Speaker 1: Whateff's thrown at you, and life has some nasty curveballs.
Speaker 1: I thank y'all so much for listening to us here
Speaker 1: on the Beargers Channel. Be claying, old Lake Pickle, work
Speaker 1: hard to bring you the best content that we can.
Speaker 1: Just subscribe to the channel and rip the knob off
Speaker 1: all right. Before I get out of here, I gotta
Speaker 1: give you some news. July the eighteenth, This country life
Speaker 1: hats are hitting the website. You'll be able to get
Speaker 1: them there. Check them out. They're really cool. I'm really
Speaker 1: proud of how they looked. Going to be great. So
Speaker 1: until next week, This is Brent Reeves signing off. Y'all
Speaker 1: be shut