Jules Heartly ,March 2025

My Baseball Memories

With Collaboration with Joe Syage

After finishing the year on an emotional  blog note, I wanted to bring out during this 2025 heartfelt stories screen-play worthy with a happy ending and all.    And then it happened when I least expected it.  I was having a conversation with a friend I haven’t seen for soooo long, a lot to catch up on in a short period of time …when it just came to my mind.  That was it!  The story had all the elements! I even pictured it being a movie and that is only after a couple of sentences he shared. 

“You  must write about it,”I suggested.  And well, here it is narrated on his own words:.  

Baseball, America’s pastime, America’s greatest sport.  It may have been overtaken by football as America’s favorite sport, but for me, baseball will always be the greatest sport ever invented.   I probably feel that way because my father introduced my brothers and I to the game at an early age, and he always took an active role throughout our baseball upbringing.   

My two brothers and I were registered for Little League baseball as soon as we became age eligible, which was eight years old.  Within the eight to twelve year old age group of the Little League, there were three divisions based on age and skill level.  My first year, I was in the low minors division and then moved up to the high minors when I was nine and ten.  For those three years, my dad was the team’s manager, which made me feel special and helped make my first baseball experiences so enjoyable.     

During the years on my dad’s team, I mostly played shortstop, which I loved because the shortstop position often had the most action on the field.  That partially changed in my third year when I was ten years old.  As we were driving to a game early in the season, my dad informed me that I was pitching that day.  I went into an immediate panic and reminded him I never pitched before and couldn’t do it.  He kept assuring me I would do fine, and I continued to try to get out of it.  When he continued trying to persuade me, I suggested coming in to pitch just the last inning, which he agreed.  When my pitching debut arrived, I stood on the mound, wound up and simply aimed for the catcher’s glove and, somehow I retired the side in order.   I thought to myself that was easy.  So that was my introduction to pitching and I became the main starting pitcher and finished with a 6-1 record for the season.  I only remembered my pitching record because my dad presented me with a baseball at season’s end with all my pitching and batting statistics, along with words of encouragement he wrote.  I have treasured that baseball to this day and it will always remain in my possession. 

At the age of eleven and twelve, I moved up to the majors, the highest division of the Little Leagues.  During those two years, my dad had become the president of the town’s Little League, which made him ineligible to manage any teams.  Despite missing him as my manager, I continued to have good success, focusing only on playing shortstop.  During those two years, I was selected by the league’s managers as the starting shortstop for the all-star team that participated in the Little League World Series tournament.   Although it was a great honor to be selected, our all-star team lost our first game in both years, and we were immediately eliminated.  

During my youth, when I wasn’t participating in Little League games and practices, my summers were mostly about playing baseball around the neighborhood, where there were dozens of kids around my age.  Our first baseball field was on the street in front of our house.  The sewer cap in the middle of the street was home plate.   The telephone poll across the street was first base and the tree in front of my yard was third base.  A piece of cardboard in the street for second base completed the diamond.   Once we got a little older and started breaking windows, we moved our daily games to the elementary school field down the street.  During the summer, if it wasn’t raining, we were playing baseball.  

When I turned thirteen, we graduated to the Babe Ruth league, which was played on a full sized field, with ninety foot bases.   It was a big adjustment, but as our bodies grew, we adapted to the larger field with little difficulty.  At that time, my dad’s two year tenure as league president came to an end, and once again, he became our team’s manager.  The Babe Ruth League age eligibility was thirteen to fifteen.  My first year was the only year I played on the same team with my two brothers, since my older brother was fifteen, and my twin brother and I were thirteen.  Having dad as our manager made the season that much more memorable.  My older brother Jack was the star of the team and I always in awe of how far he could hit a baseball.   

When I finished my third year in the Babe Ruth League and with baseball firmly entrenched into my life, I continued playing for both my high school team in the spring and in the Connie Mack League (16-18 year old league) during the summer, until I graduated and went to college.  Playing on the varsity team my senior year in high school, my coach was Rich Smith, but we just called him “coach”.  Coach was in his late twenties and in his third season as the varsity baseball coach.  I played third base the entire season that year and my good friend Phil was our ace lefty pitcher.   When the season ended and we graduated high school, I never would have known that our love of baseball would reunite Phil and I with our coach from high school fifty years later.     

After high school, my baseball playing days came to an abrupt end, although over the next thirty years, I periodically played on various company softball teams and softball teams with friends from high school and college.  Playing softball seemed like a natural progression to playing competitive baseball, as the thought of ever playing fast pitch baseball again was something I never considered.    

Fast forward forty years, in 2015 at age 58, I had an opportunity to play a baseball game again, when my high school organized an alumni game for graduates who played on the high school team.  My friend Phil, the pitcher on my 1974 team, and I decided to sign up and we arrived at the game together.  After four decades since my last high school game, not surprisingly, most of the alumni who showed up for the game were much younger than the two of us.  As we walked onto the field while still in the outfield, our high school coach, Rich Smith, who was standing near home plate, greeted us by yelling both of our names.   I was amazed he remembered our names, and when I greeted him, I expressed how special he made me feel that he remembered my name.   His response was “I remember all my players”.   I immediately had a renewed respect for my former coach.     

The teams for the alumni game were determined by graduation year, odd years vs. even years. Phil and I were on the even team, and one of our teammates, Matt Daley, was a graduate of the Class of 2000 that won the State Championship.  Matt was the only graduate of our high school to play in the major leagues.  In fact, he retired just a few months earlier, after the 2014 season, as a pitcher for the New York Yankees.  When the alumni game fielding positions were decided, I was assigned second base and Matt was playing shortstop.  So, I hadn’t played hardball in forty years, and my middle infield playing partner was a just retired major league pitcher.   No pressure at all.   Matt turned out to be such a fun, easy going guy, which made the game another great baseball memory for me.   Seeing my former high school coach was also a great thrill, but I didn’t know it at the time, that many years later, I would have the opportunity to spend a significant amount of quality time with him.   

 (l to r), me, NY Yankee pitcher Matt Daley, my buddy Phil

When I retired in 2019 at age 63, I hadn’t played fast pitch baseball on a regulation size field since high school, except for that one alumni baseball game a few years earlier. Although I played periodically on a variety of softball teams since my high school days forty five years ago, I hadn’t considered whether softball or baseball would become an activity in my retirement.     

At that time, Phil was the manager and star pitcher for a team in a 45+ year age group baseball league.  Immediately upon my retirement, he added me to his team roster, hoping to inspire me to play baseball again after so many years.   However, Phil lives in Dutchess County, so the games were played about one hundred miles north of my New Jersey house.  But I committed to play in a couple games a year, partially to hang out with my high school buddy, but also to see how playing baseball again would feel.   

I was on Phil’s team for three years and played only six games in total, and didn’t participate in any practices.   Although I didn’t play much, playing baseball again reminded me how much I loved the game when I was growing up and what a major part of my life baseball represented.   What a great feeling it was facing live fastball pitching again.  Playing only a couple games a year inspired me to explore if there were any New Jersey based senior baseball leagues around.   

Left side: Phil (left) and I when I joined his team 

Right side:  my New Jersey championship team 

My hope of finding a local team came to fruition, when I learned that a gym friend plays on a 60+ year age group team in the Lebanon Valley Men’s Senior Baseball League (MSBL).  After informing me of the team’s interest in adding new players, he made the necessary introductions and I joined the team for the 2023 season.   Participating in weekly indoor practices from January to April, followed by outdoor practices each week, and weekly games throughout the spring and summer, gave me the feeling of being a competitive baseball player again.  Although the players may be moving a little slower, the intensity and enjoyment of the games felt no different than when we were many years younger.   In my first year on the team, we finished with a regular season record of 14-1, and then won our two playoff games to win the league championship.  

During my first year with the team, I learned that several of my teammates formed a team to play in the Roy Hobbs World Series (Hobbs) tournament in Ft. Myers, Florida, which was held every year in November.   The Hobbs tournament is a national baseball tournament with teams ranging from 35+ to 80+ age group divisions.  Thousands of players from around the country participate in these week long tournaments.  The manager of my New Jersey team invited me to join a team he was putting together to enter the Hobbs tournament.  However, I was apprehensive about playing nine inning games every day for a week, after just finishing my first season back in baseball.  So I did not participate in the Hobbs tournament.  

However, during the second season with my New Jersey team in 2024, the discussion of the Hobbs tournament came up again, and I was again invited to join the team.  At about the same time, Phil informed me that he and Frank, another teammate from our high school baseball team were on a 65+ age group team playing in the Hobbs tournament this year, and inquired about my interest in playing.   With the tournament now sounding more interesting to me, Phil contacted the team manager and gave him the “hard sell”, and shortly thereafter I was accepted as a new member of the team.    

When November arrived, now having played two seasons in New Jersey, I felt more prepared for a tournament with games every day for a week.  Playing baseball with two former high school teammates after almost fifty years was an experience I would treasure, and certainly something I never dreamed would occur.   As if the anticipation wasn’t enough, Phil contacted our high school coach, who had retired to Ft. Myers, and informed him of our participation in the tournament.   During the tournament, our high school coach from fifty years ago came to watch three of our games, then joined us for dinner one night and hosted the three of us at his house for dinner another night.  Our coach was a legend at Garden City High School.  Following our graduation from high school after his third year as coach, he went on to coach the high school team for another forty one years.  

Within our 65+ age group division at the Hobbs tournament, there were a total of 37 teams from across the country in our division alone.  The tournament games were primarily played on the various spring training fields of the Boston Red Sox and Minnesota Twins.   All the fields were in spectacular condition, but as an added bonus, each team played one game on the stadium field of the Red Sox or Twins.  Just eight months earlier in March, Phil and I and two other high school friends travelled to Florida during spring training and watched the Twins play at their stadium in front of a packed crowd.  I couldn’t even have fathomed that eight months later, I would be playing a game on that same field and that my high school coach would be in the stands watching.      

Left side: Phil, coach Smith, me and Frank

Right side: me at Twins stadium

During my baseball playing days growing up, I often dreamed, as many kids did, of playing major league baseball (shortstop for the New York Mets, to be specific).  But as I reached adulthood, I accepted the reality that I would never set foot on a major league stadium field.  However, prior to the start and during the game at the Twins stadium, I actually imagined what it felt like to be a professional baseball player.  During warm ups, groundskeepers were sweeping the infield, which was followed by watering down the infield, just as they do at major league games.  As our game was about to begin, each team stood along the first and third base lines for the playing of the National Anthem on the PA system.  Throughout the game, the PA announcer introduced each batter over the loud PA system.  Hearing “now batting, left fielder, Joe Syage” each time I came to the plate made me feel like a professional baseball player who had turned back the clock by four decades.  Even though that feeling only lasted a moment, I would remember it forever.      

As I was standing on the field during the game, I realized this was the closest I would ever get to imagining life as a professional player.  And then looking up in the stands, and seeing my high school coach watching, was another memory I knew I wouldn’t forget.  The entire weeklong baseball tournament resulted in wonderful new baseball memories, both on and off the field.  The times spent with our high school coach and the baseball stories he shared over his forty four year career made the week’s adventure even more memorable.  

During the Hobbs tournament in Florida, our team of sixty and seventy year old men received rubber bracelets with the inscription “you don’t stop playing baseball when you get old, you get old when you stop playing baseball”.   As I thought about that, I came to believe in its simple message.  Don’t stop doing something you love simply because most people your age have long since given it up.  So I plan to take each baseball season one year at a time, and hopefully someday I will be participating in the Hobbs tournament in the 80+ year age division.       

When I started playing baseball again, with men in their sixties and seventies, I realized that guys who played baseball at our age all possess a lifelong love of the game.  It’s not like other activities people generally pick up at that age, considering the various skills and the physical exertion required.  So we willingly tolerate the pulled muscles, aches and pains that come with playing, because of our love of the game.  Plus spending time with guys who have religiously followed and watched half of century or more of professional baseball has afforded my teammates and I the opportunity to engage in endless debates and recollections of our favorite moments in baseball history.   

My return to the game of baseball in retirement was both unexpected and immensely enjoyable.  From first playing just a couple games a year with my high school teammate Phil, to finding a team close to my home to play on full time, to then playing in a national tournament on a major league stadium field with my high school coach watching from the stands was quite a journey.   As I am writing this in the dead of winter, I am participating in weekly indoor batting sessions with my New Jersey teammates, and eagerly anticipating the upcoming season and then heading down to Florida in November for the national Hobbs tournament for the second time.  

When I made the decision to retire five years ago, I was open to finding new activities to keep me busy.  However, playing baseball was not part of that mindset, even though it had been such a defining aspect of my youth.   What I learned from my renewed enjoyment of the game was that it’s never too late to participate in an activity you truly enjoy.   So perhaps thinking about the activities you enjoyed in your youth, but had to give up as life’s responsibilities took over, is a place to start when thinking about your life in retirement.   It seems to be working for me.  

I hope you enjoy reading this blog specially now that baseball season is up.

#HappySpring

Remember to follow me on social media @JBRadiant and check my website for all book updates and activities http://www.JulesHeartly.com