Bob—stalwart player and team dad—recently played with the NY Ramblers, the offshoot of the MBC started several years ago in Brooklyn. Here's his thoughts:
It’s been an interesting ride that spans over three decades and I had no idea in my imagination that it would be like this. I have always loved baseball and I can’t tell you why. It goes back to days in the backyard with my dad and my older sister playing with a bat and ball. She conked me in the head one time with a bat, but that was just part of the game. So, how did I get from sororal abuse and head trauma in the 1960’s to Brooklyn on April 21, 2024? Glad you asked….
In some ways, my journey to playing with the Ramblers starts in a coherent story back in June 2001. One pleasant Sunday afternoon in June 2001, I had taken my children, John and Helen, to Julius Kahn Playground in the Presidio of San Francisco for an outing. We wandered down to what we called the Hidden Diamond just North of the playground and there was a baseball game in progress.
I asked one of the players (I think it was Mike Gaspar) what was going on and he said “It’s a pickup game”.
I asked, “ Can I play?”
He said, “ Sure, just come out next Sunday.”
Next Sunday arrived and as fate would have it, my wife and children had other things to do, so I was left with the opportunity to go play ball.
I found my gear and started to put it on, filled with anxiety. What if I’m bad at this? I don’t want to embarrass myself. I’m 42 years old and haven’t played for nearly 10 years. Somehow, I got over those feelings and made my way to the game.
I don’t remember a lot about that first game with the Mission Baseball Club, but the experience was pretty good and it was the beginning of one of the best parts of my life in San Francisco. Here, I need to say, I just feel so lucky to be playing baseball with a good bunch of guys. Never imagined that that would happen.
Since then, every Sunday that I’ve been in town, I’ve played with my brothers (and more recently, some sisters) of the Mission Baseball Club. They are my baseball family. From the beginning, I brought my son, John with me from the time he was 4 years old with me and he grew up with them. He originally just came along and was part of the mix. We had a conversation early on about certain words and language that one could use on a baseball field and how that was the only place those words were allowed. I think he understood.
He started to play in the field when he was about 10 years old and has played in increasingly more meaningful roles ever since. Should probably insert video here when he’s pitching and makes me hit a weak ground-out.
One of the Mission Baseball regulars was a guy named Dave Johnson. Red-headed, red bearded guy, a Mission stalwart. I still have a pair of cleats with a gouge in them where he spiked me when I was playing first base. One Sunday, he tells me he’s moving to New York. I asked him why. He says it’s about a girl. After a short discussion, I say, “Well you have to go.” And that’s how we get the Ramblers!
As I understand the story – and I’m open to correction – Dave was pretty miserable in New York without regular Sunday baseball. At some point, the girl tells him to do something about it and he starts the Ramblers – pretty cool.
This brings us back to why I wanted to play with the Ramblers.
My son John, after playing ball in high school and college, eventually ended up working in NY and connected with the Ramblers. He’s played with them for a couple years now, and as he’s now moving on to grad school at Cornell, I decided that I needed to go play with them while he was still in New York City. We made all the arrangements for a family trip to New York. My daughter Helen, joined us from Chicago. John and I made the trip into Brooklyn and met up with the Ramblers on Sunday, April 21st.
Here is a grainy video of me getting the business from my son a few years ago, resulting in a weak groundout:
I’m not going to go deep into the details of the play of the game. Suffice it to say that I did not cover myself in glory. I grounded out a few times and struck out once. Ed. note: Bob informed me that he did get hit by a pitch, which in MBC parlance means that the game was “official”.
My main contribution to the game was a failure to even come close to catching a foul pop at first with the bases loaded. A couple of pitches later – grand slam. Nice rip over the left field fence.
A few comments on the differences between the San Francisco game and the NY game:
San Francisco has better fields. There is a photo below of the Prospect park fields where the games occur, there is one nice Parade ground field, but it still is pretty bumpy. There is a snack bar though
The Ramblers actually create a lineup, divide players via a coaches draft and keep a scorebook
The Ramblers appear to be closer to each other off the field. MBC has a fairly open door policy when it comes to recruitment, or should I say, open park, and so we develop players that we otherwise would have no interaction with, was it not for the game and happenstance.
The Ramblers play on a field with fences
As the stereotypes would have it, the San Francisco game is less intense on the surface. I think we play as hard, we just don’t let it show so much
In conclusion, there’s little that I can say other than that I feel so lucky to be able to play baseball with such good people – whether at Prospect Park or the diamonds in San Francisco.
