From the Mind of Glenn Miller
My fascination with and love for baseball began a long time ago.
I can recall attending one of Uncle Bob’s semi-pro games in New Jersey in the 1950s when I was 4 or 5. The game was so mesmerizing and magical I wandered off into left field for a closer look. The left fielder picked me up and carried me back into foul territory where I belonged.
But I belonged to the game from then on. …
I played constantly as a kid. There were youth leagues and high school ball up the road from Fort Myers in St. Petersburg.
During grade school years the neighborhood kids and I gathered in oil-soaked Livingston Avenue and played 500, a game many Roy Hobbs players likely also played in their youth. The baseballs became soaked with the oil that was used to hold down the dust on that dirt road.
My younger brother, Dave, and I played games with a rubber ball in the front yard, imitating the batting stances and pitching styles of the era’s stars. Dick McAuliffe’s batting stance and Juan Marichal’s high-kicking wind-up spring to mind as examples.
Then there were the baseball cards. Oh, there were the baseball cards. I still have thousands from the ‘60s, jammed into a box in a closet or crammed into an old red suitcase tucked under a bed.
Fast forward decades. …
In 1992, I started playing Roy Hobbs after many years of playing softball.
I was a player for a decade or so but for several years have been working for Roy Hobbs Baseball, writing stories for its programs, newsletters and website.
I’m still as mesmerized with the game as when I was 4 or 5.
I promise not to wander off into left field during your games. If I do, please do not try to pick me up and carry me off the field.
Oh, and I occasionally write about baseball on my blog.