Looking back on my years spent on God’s earth, I cannot help but be thankful for all of the time I got to spend around baseball fields with my dad. Whether we were practicing on it or playing on it, we were always…always planning to go or already at a baseball field. On the few days during the summer that we were not at a baseball field, we were either in the back yard throwing or hitting in our batting cage…which was not a very common piece of baseball equipment to have in the yard at the time.
Friends would come from all over Attala County to hit in the “Beall’s batting cage.” I am constantly told stories by friends who had visited the batting cage during those awesome summer days. A lot of the time I do not really remember who was there or not there and I did have two other brothers that had buddies that would come over as well, so that could have been the case, or I am just getting older and forgetful.
I cannot help but think of how much better I became as a ball player because of the time, energy and money my dad put into giving us our best chance at being the best that my brothers and I could be. He never batted an eye at the cost of the pitching machine or the time he spent just throwing to us himself. He lived for that and loved every minute of it. The older I get, I am almost certain his body ached from line drives to the shins or errant throws from myself.
I had a pretty good arm and he was bound and determined to make me a pitcher. I was usually pretty good for two or three pitches and then the wild beast would show up. Jack Beall was amazed that I could throw a ball all the way across the diamond from first to third with pinpoint accuracy but could not hit a catcher’s mitt, or even near it, from 60 feet 6 inches away. That was pretty much my M. O. though. I was usually good for one summer league inning. After that ,the walk-a-thon would start, and back to my home at first base I would go.
He would sit on a five-gallon bucket and take throw after throw from me…some were in the dirt and some were high enough that the FAA might come calling. I just could not figure it out on the mound as far as control and how to be a pitcher instead of a thrower. We spent so many hours doing that over and over again, to finally just give it up and practice more on short hops and hitting the curve ball the other way. That is why I respect the pitching position so much.
A pitcher can never let up or take a pitch off because it is at that very moment that he will get raked when a pitch was left low-and-in instead of away-and-high, just off the black. These young men from Kosciusko, Ethel and French Camp that are listed on the All-Area team had remarkable years on the mound and several were the best of the best at the plate as well. It takes a lot of work to be at the top of your game at any position, let alone pitching, so give these athletes some acknowledgement for what they have accomplished this year as individuals when you see them out and about in public.
Two region championships and deep runs into the semifinals of the MHSAA 1A and 4A Playoffs are a testament to all of the talent you see accumulated on page A9. My daddy would have been proud!!!
