Celebrating 25 Years of Fanaticism: High School Pt 2.

Part 2: Sophomore Year

The summer of 1993 saw me playing baseball which should come as a shock to nobody.  In my Little League days I was the rare left handed second baseman.  Now that we had switched from 60 foot base paths to 90 foot base paths, it was no longer viable for me to stay there.  Our team was learning how to turn double plays so in the last couple seasons I was learning the outfield and first base to keep playing.  What I really wanted to do, though, was pitch.  I had been allowed to pitch just 2 innings in my life and that was when I was 12 back in 1990.

Seeing as nobody was willing to teach me how to pitch, it was up to me to learn on my own.  I watched plenty of games on television and was always playing, but I couldn't get a coach to let me try for real.  Of course I also couldn't learn how to throw a curve ball or a slider and that was a big issue.  I didn't throw hard enough to get by with just a fastball so I tinkered with grips to try and make the ball move.  Every time I warmed up with a friend (I didn't dare try with someone I didn't know) I would manipulate my grip and throw to see if the ball moved...it rarely did.

I went through the season again without getting on the mound, but I wasn't going to give up.  I would sit in the backseat of the car on the way to games with my fingers spread out over the ball to help stretch them out.  I wasn't blessed with big hands and so I hoped if I stretched out my fingers it would help me with grips.

That fall I made the jump to Varsity soccer for my school.  Our coach, Aurturo Jiminez was the spawn of Satan when it came to conditioning.  I never realized how much running was involved in the game of soccer until that season.  Call me naive, but at our school sports weren't the primary focus.  It has always been known for it's academics and even now in 2012, George Mason was voted the #19 public school in America for academics.  With such small classes, you didn't really have to be good to play sports, just willing to show up.  I started that season (probably by default) and fared okay, scoring my lone Varsity goal at Ballou High School (deep in the heart of D.C.) a week after our game was postponed because of a school shooting there.  Needless to say as a 5' 10" scrawny white kid, I didn't even put my hands up to cheer.  I was almost ashamed to have scored and hurried back to the center of the field in the hopes nobody saw me.

With my new found freedom post soccer season I played fall baseball with a bunch of strangers.  I had never really ventured out of Falls Church to play ball so I didn't know what to expect.  When I showed up to the first practice I recognized a familiar face that quickly eased my tension.  My friend Zack from school was there and what amazed me is that I didn't even know he played baseball!  It was readily apparent that he was a very raw player which allowed me to mentor him on the field.  That was all well and good, but his was our developing friendship off the field that would be the biggest takeaway from that season.  He loved talking baseball, and was a Milwaukee Brewers fan, which was unfortunate for him because they hadn't been very good for a while.  I was allowed to use him as a practice target for my newest grip that I developed into a pitch.  It was a split-fingered grip, but thrown just like my fastball was.  It came out like a knuckleball and although I could get it to move, I had no control of where it was going.  This pitch was going to be a work in progress at best.

The 1993 season for the Athletics was a disaster.  Mark McGwire was injured for the majority of the season, Dennis Eckersley regressed greatly and the team plummeted from 1st place to last place in the entire American League (yes even 1 game worse than the Brewers!!)  In the NBA, my Pistons suffered a similar fate as they also bottomed out as the worst team in the Eastern Conference.  They even lost four more games than the lowly Washington Bullets.  The Redskins continued my unhealthy trend of disappointments for my favorite teams.  They also finished with the worst record in their Conference and this was the biggest shock of them all because I was just not used to seeing the Redskins lose.

Luckily for me I had found a new, fun way to enjoy the football season that year.  It was a new game called Fantasy Football where you and your friends got together to build teams of players from all throughout the NFL and compete against each other.  As the real NFL players accrue statistics, we convert those statistics into points (10 yards rushing = 1 point, 1 TD = 6 points) and your starting lineup of players goes up against another team and highest points win.  Back then we usually had to wait until the next day to see the box score of the games to see how our players did.  There was no internet (well limited for most) and the recaps of the games on ESPN never showed every statistic we needed.  I am pretty sure we didn't make it through the full season because it was so difficult to keep of and this would be a continual issue pre-internet.  

The Capitals had an average season at best coming off of Dale Hunters' suspension.  They squeezed into the playoffs as the 7th seed (out of 8) and got to play the Pittsburgh Penguins.  In a surprise, the Capitals upset the Penguins and moved to the 2nd round where they were dutifully trounced by the future Stanley Cup Champion New York Rangers.  At least they were able to beat the Penguins...god I hated Mario Lemieux.

My best shot at another championship team came with the Men's Basketball team down at UNC.  They were the defending champs and added two future NBA All-Stars in Jerry Stackhouse and Rasheed Wallace along with Jeff McInnins.  What the made up for in talent, that 93-94 team lacked in cohesion.  Still talent often wins and the Heels earned another #1 seed in the Tournament.  The Final Four was going to be played in Charlotte, N.C. which would give UNC a huge home court advantage.  In the first round UNC won easily and UCLA lost which sent Trevor packing!  On Saturday Kentucky was upended and Erin was sent home.  Virginia lost, Georgetown lost and the road to victory and bragging rights became a who lot clearer.  The Tar Heels drew future ACC conference mate Boston College in the 2nd round, but I was already looking forward to a Sweet 16 meeting against Bob Knight and Indiana.  Apparently so were the players.  Boston College led from the opening tip and after a Rasheed Wallace 3 point shot fell short at the buzzer, the Heels were done.  I was in a state of shock like I've never felt before.  I feared going to school the next day.  If it wasn't for my friends teams being eliminated I would've called out sick.  For a week.  Or a month.  I locked myself in my room for the rest of the evening.  I was 15 and didn't know how to handle disappointment like this.  To add insult to injury, the hated Duke Blue Devils went all the way to the Finals before thankfully being beaten by Arkansas...thank you Razorbacks! I owe you one.

I must admit, I don't watch Women's College Basketball, but the Lady Tar Heels had a magical run in the 1994 Tournament led by Freshman Marion Jones...yes that Marion Jones.  It was Charlotte Smith that made the biggest shot of that Tournament, though.  With 0.7 seconds left in the Championship Game the Lady Heels trailed by 2 points and were set to inbound the ball from under their basket.  A pass to Smith behind the 3 point line, the shot, SWISH!!! I ran through the house screaming 'SHE MADE IT, SHE MADE IT!!'  Nobody but me was watching the game and nobody knew what the hell I was talking about.  If that had happened in a Men's game it would be the most replayed, most remembered shot in the history of College Basketball.  Unfortunately it is a mere blip on the sports radar with only die hard fans like me giving a damn.

Up next: Junior year where I start driving, pitching and playing street hockey and my teams continue to suck.