Ahh Spring. 

You can feel it in the air can’t ya? Temperatures are improving, the days are getting longer...and Major League Baseball’s spring training is getting under way as we speak.

Baseball has always been an important game in my family all the way back to the days my grandpa Ralph played semi-pro ball in South Dakota with the Canaries. He also had the opportunity to play an exhibition game in 1927 with the greats Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.

Unfortunately he passed away in 1945 at the age of 40 in an accident.

My brothers and I all played this nation’s pastime every year in the springs and summers of North Minneapolis during the 60’s and 70’s. I remember being invited to step up to the plate at one of my older brother’s tee ball practice and smacking the ball to center field on my first swing. It impressed the coaches and it was from that day forward I ended playing baseball — then softball — until I was nearly 40 years old.

I have very fond memories of my childhood baseball games and though I was rather diminutive, I felt I could compete fairly well with some of the older and more seasoned kids. In my day, winning a trophy or pennant or even a ribbon was the ultimate challenge since they were harder to come by in those days.

One year, my mom “forced” me to go to a Twins instructional event in Brooklyn Center where Twins coaches and a few players would be on hand to give kids tips on how to improve their game. I wanted to go desperately but I couldn’t find my cleats or even a pair of shoes to wear. My mom yelled for me to get in the car or she was just going to leave me behind. I hopped in the station wagon and felt super embarrassed when we drove up to the park and I had to jump out onto the field in just a pair of black socks.

I do remember, however, being singled out by a Twins coach — not for my lack of shoes but for my skills — which made me thankful my mom had the foresight to “force” me to go.

Another time my mom “forced” me to participate was one year when I was around 10 or 11 and I was late getting home from hanging with my best friend. My dad and I rushed to Bohanon Park to carpool with the team but missed the van by several minutes. The game was scheduled to be played in Bloomington and my dad asked me what I wanted to do...and I just told him “Oh well, we may as well go home.”

All the while I was kinda thrilled I could get home, get out of my uniform and go back to hanging with my friend down the block.

But, mom wasn’t having any of it and when I returned home she demanded my dad drive me straight to the game.

OMG I begged her not to do this since I knew I’d be showing up well after the game already started and it would be embarrassing...

Didn’t matter. She made me go despite my defiance.

But it turned out to be a good thing. I made the game by the start of the second inning and as soon as I entered the dugout, the coach hollered for me to get in the batter’s circle because I was due up.

As I hurriedly reached the batter’s box, I realized the base were loaded and the game was scoreless. The first pitch came in and I swung away — and what a shot it was! I rounded first and slid safely into second and all my teammates were cheering as I drove in all three runners with a double.

A few innings later (I’m not making this up), I had the identical situation occur as I stepped up to the plate and saw the base jam packed. And again, with one mighty swing I cleared the bases with another two-bagger.

I remember my first base coach running  over to me with my helmet and patting me on the behind saying, “that’s our little Harmon Killebrew” (because I was wearing the number three).

All I remember thinking was of how I wished my grandpa Ralph was around to see what I had done. Six RBIs on two hits — it was the single-best game I had ever played in. Thanks mom for “making” me go to this all-important game. And for making me understand good fortune.

Ahh Spring. 

The sound of bats hitting balls, the smell of the leather gloves and the remembrances of our nation’s pastime.

And serendipity.