BASEBALL

Baseball was once known as “America's National Pastime” and was played, in some form, on every playground in the land, even if the playground was a street, first base was the fire hydrant, the bat was a broomstick handle and the ball was a “spaldeen.” I remember listening to the games (we had no TV) on the radio and then hopping on my bike to get to the nearest school playground for a pick up game. If we got there and there weren't enough guys for two full teams, we might “designate” a pitcher for both sides or use one outfielder so that the batter had to “call his field” and, if we hit the ball elsewhere, it was an out. The Pro's were our heroes. We collected the trading cards from packs of bubble gum, kept them in shoe boxes and flipped them when we had doubles that we weren't afraid to gamble away. Growing up in the North East, smack dab in between Yankee Territory and Red Sox land, I had more heroes than I could shake a stick at. My favorite player was Jimmy Piersall, the Boston Center Fielder who suffered from mental illness and was the subject of the book (which I read when it came out) and the movie (which I still watch whenever it is on) starring Tony Perkins, “Fear Strikes Out.” When he wasn't squirting a water pistol on home plate he was making amazing plays in the outfield. Years later, after he had become a wonderful announcer for the Chicago White Sox, a friend, who knew I was a fan, met him at a sports memorabilia show and had him autograph a picture for me. I still have it. Getting a Mickey Mantle rookie card in a pack of gum was almost impossible, so, if you ever found yourself in the enviable position of finding one, you held on to it for dear life. I traded a shoe box full of cards for the Mickey Mantle card and........someone stole it. I was livid and devastated at the same time. Baseball was not only the “National Pastime,” but, it was an integral part of our lives. Mantle, Maris and Mays were who we wanted to grow up to be and we played every day and in every weather condition. We knew that if it was too cold outside, the bat could hurt our hands if we hit the ball wrong, but, we didn't care. My love for the game began to wane when the leagues started to expand as did the players. What used to be 2 leagues with 7 teams in each league became leagues and divisions and territories and the players found steroids and each one had to be bigger and stronger than the next guy so he could hit more home runs. As far as I'm concerned, the whole sport became nothing but a 'roided out version of Home Run Derby. To my way of thinking, the true Home Run Kings will always be Henry Aaron and Babe Ruth. Anyone who came after (yes, I'm referring to you, Mark McGuire) should be no more than an asterisk in the record books. As baseball began to lose it's luster, football made it's strides with the rooting public, to take over the top rung on the favorite sport ladder and, eventually, all kids, all over the country became soccer players. Soccer Mom's became the norm as opposed to Dad coaching the little league team. This is why I stay away from baseball these days. There is, however, one very notable exception. Each year, boys from all over the globe congregate in Williamsport, Pa. For the Little League World Series. For the year leading up to the actual series, teams across the land battle it out for that coveted spot at the top of the heap where they will face the team from some other country who had to go through the same process with teams from other lands, to see who will be the world champions. This year it was Chula Vista, Ca. and the team from Japan. Japan won on a double play in the bottom of the 6th and final inning. The final score was 6-4 and it was very exciting baseball. This is a TRUE world series, and the kids are playing PURE baseball, devoid of all the dirt and juice and money that can sully what once was the greatest game on earth. I will never stop watching and loving the Little League World Series, because, it will always take me back to a better time. A time when our biggest issue was whether your bike would get you to the field in time for the “pick-up” to begin so you'd be on the “right” team. We played the baseball with every bit of emotion and dedication we could muster up and we did it for the same reason Little Leaguers still do to this day......for the love of the game.

THE OLE CATCH 22

I have a good friend who is going through a rough period. He is a disabled veteran with no job, no car, no credit and not much of a roof over his head, although, under that roof is a 60” flat screen TV so he doesn't miss any basketball. He was told that if he could find a way to buy a car, he could, eventually, build his credit back, but, with no credit, he couldn't get financed, so, he went to the local street that is dotted on both sides with used car lots. Lots that are inhabited by men whose vinyl shoes often match their vinyl belts. High pressure sleazeballs who have, at least, a dozen ploys to move the merchandise. Cars with issues that will show themselves as soon as the t's are crossed and the i's are dotted and you drive off the lot. My friend saw an ad for one of these places. It said $80 down and $80 a month, a deal that was too good to be true (because it was). When he got there he was told those deals don't exist – the guy was actually admitting to a bait and switch. But, he said, he had the perfect car to build my friends credit. Just $400 down and he drives home. Once the paperwork was signed, he was told that the down payment was actually $1200 and that the $400 was today....he had 30 days to come up with the rest. After a quick phone call to secure a couple of days of part time work, he agreed. He was told that the car, which had a Kelly Blue Book value of $4,000 was his for just $10,000 at a 21% interest rate which had him paying $17,000. He inked the deal and drove off the lot, satisfied in the fact that he will still have a roof over his head, albeit a roof with a spare tire in the trunk, and, as long as the radio worked, he wouldn't miss any basketball games.

EXERCISE

There is no denying the benefits of exercise. Just a few minutes each day can, reportedly, prolong your life for years. Sounds like a pretty good trade off, right? In theory it is. In practice, however, it's a different story. Well, not really, but, if you suffer from CL, you'll know exactly what I mean. CL or “Chronic Laziness” is a disease that get's progressively worse as we age. CL causes us to go from yearning to run in a marathon to wanting to drive to the finish line. CL sufferers stay away from stores because it's easier to shop online. They don't understand the now archaic concept of standing up, crossing a room and physically maneuvering a knob to change the channel on the TV. CL sufferers rarely accomplish anything worthwhile. The effort is just too involved. And...the laziness is everywhere. The staff of the famed Mayo Clinic published an article called - “Exercise: 7 benefits of regular physical activity.” Seven? See – they were too lazy to come up with a top 10. They say they've found that exercise improves mood. So does going to the circus, although, the chronically lazy will argue the benefits of postponing the “glee” until the circus itself is televised, so they don't have to leave the house and deal with the crowds. According to an article in US News & World Report, exercise will make you smarter. Those of us with CL will argue that so will the Discovery Channel. See, we're chronically lazy- we're already very smart. We have lots of educational channels to choose from. Exercise allegedly builds self esteem. Honestly, so does Facebook when you get a bunch of responses to some inane post. And, if you don't....put up a picture of a kitten. Your ego will be fed soon enough. So, you see, exercise ain't all it's cracked up to be when you suffer from CL. I'm planning to exercise right now. I'm going to exercise my option to take a nap. Follow me on Twitter @BobLeonardRadio and stop by Bob Leonard Radio on Facebook.

WHAT A TOOL BELIEVES

Pete Seeger and Lee Hays wrote - “If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning....” I'd like to take that one step further. If I WAS a hammer, I'd try to convince the screwdriver to take over for me because all that pounding gives me a headache. Admit it, don't you feel like a “tool” sometimes? Water the plants, take out the trash, fix the closet door, check the oil in the car, there's a stain on the sidewalk, please put some new bulbs in the kitchen....I could go on, but, I'm starting to get tired. How's a person supposed to find the time to get in a little “Maury” with all those chores? Will we ever know who the “baby daddy” is? Life as a hammer or a screwdriver or a monkey wrench can be quite draining. Especially with the advent of the “honey-do list.” The list seems to be never ending. For every job that gets done, there are two more waiting to take it's place. A word to the wise, ladies - if a man says he’ll fix it, he will fix it. There’s no need to remind him every six months. You have to remember that the guy is currently utilizing the greatest money saving tool of all time – procrastination. What? No points for creativity? A little credit where credit is due, if you don't mind. The man tool in your life has very important things going through his head. He is, indeed, fixing the closet door, checking the oil, cleaning the stain on the sidewalk – he's just doing these things in his mind. He's thinking about the best way to get them done while expending as little energy as necessary. So, let him work on it. Let the “tool” stay in the box for a while. In the meantime, if you don't mind, would you please crack the tool box lid and turn the TV to Maury. Follow me on Twitter @BobLeonardRadio and stop by Bob Leonard Radio on Facebook.

JUNK MAIL

As long as there is still mail delivery, there will be junk mail. You don't really spend much time going through that stuff, do you? But every once in a while, one of those little trash can fillers catches your eye......like the one I got last week.          The mail came in an envelope that stated, in bold letters: “Free Prepaid Cremation! Details Inside.” - They had me now - On the inside of the envelope was a postcard, of sorts. It said that I could get a $300 reimbursement on my cremation service, free grave space (which is not very much if you’re cremated. A small hole should do it.), a free granite or marble headstone or bronze marker (also not a very big one in conjunction with the size of the hole.) and spouse benefits, whatever they may be (maybe ½ off a bus ticket to come for a hole-side visit and a free donut before 11). Then came the kicker on the other side of the card: “Cemetery Space is Limited”.....Whoa-I know the Boomer generation, to which I begrudgingly belong, is getting older, but, if this is true, we must be dropping like flies. These prepaid cremation solicitations are starting to show up in more mailboxes on a more regular basis as cemeteries are running out of space at a faster clip.      On the back of the card, towards the end of all this free stuff, it says, again in bold letters: “Return the Reply Slip TODAY.” This is where I make the conscious decision to start being more aware of my junk mail. Who knows what I've been missing. After all, this very important communique now has me better prepared for my impending demise. Somebody apparently knows something I don't and, with information as important as my final resting urn, I'd like to be privy. Follow me on Twitter @BobLeonardRadio and visit Bob Leonard Radio on Facebook.

LET'S CHAT

When was the last time you had a talk with someone? You know, a real live discussion, where you look at them and they look at you? And how about an even more obsolete form of communication. Writing a letter? We don't write letters – we text. Paper and ink are just not real necessary any more. Nor, for that matter, are envelopes and stamps. We pay our bills and do our banking online, we take pictures, save them and send them with our “devices.” When we want music, videos, TV or movies, it's as simple as a click to make your wishes come true. We can read books.....we can write books. All without ever having to look up......an online periscope can't be too far off. Not long ago, I observed my daughter and her boyfriend as they sat next to each other in front of a movie and “discussed” it, while seemingly watching it, on their cell phones. I worry that these inroads in technology will cause to become obsolete, all those wonders that came along and made us forget things like record players and typewriters and pay phones. What are those things? See....how quick we forget! What's a bit more disconcerting, though, is how not-so-far into the future generations will evolve. Will we be born with our eyes automatically looking down instead of straight ahead? Our range of vision will only have to be somewhere between 3 and 7 inches. And, how about our hands? Will they look like mittens........just big palms with thumbs? And don't forget that all important periscope that will, by then, just be part of our heads, so we will be able to walk and "talk" at the same time. So try to be patient the next time you say to your kid, “Can we talk?” and they text back, “Sure.” Follow me on Twitter @BobLeonardRadio and stop by BobLeonardRadio on Facebook.