The other night I got to throw out the first pitch at the Northwoods League All Star game at beautiful Warner Park. Well, not THE first pitch, but one of four first pitches. It was an honor, or actually 25% of an honor.
I took this more seriously than the other three guys who threw out the first three opening pitches. They just showed up. But I showed up with my glove and a ball and I got the starting catcher for the South All Stars to play catch with me for ten minutes so I could warm up.
Then the moment came. The first two first pitch guys threw the ball into the dirt. I felt some pressure go away. Then the third guy, who had told me that he used to pitch for Edgewood, tossed a perfect strike. Pressure back on.
I straddled the rubber. I looked for a sign from the catcher. There was no sign, of course. The catcher was thinking: “This is an opening pitch, for cryin’ out loud. Does this guy understand the meaning of symbolic?” I threw the ball. It sailed high and inside. Had there been a batter there and had he been six feet six inches tall and had he had really slow reflexes he would have been hit in the face. On the other hand, if it was a left-handed batter this could have been a pitch out or one pitch in an intentional walk. Let’s say the batter was a lefty.
What's important is that my pitch did not go into the dirt. Thanks to thorough preparation complete disaster was avoided.
The other night I got to throw out the first pitch at the Northwoods League All Star game at beautiful Warner Park. Well, not THE first pitch, but one of four first pitches. It was an honor, or actually 25% of an honor. 
