Play ball (we wish we could!): Tim Corbett - cleveland.com

Guest columnist Tim Corbett of Dana Point, Calif., moved away from Northeast Ohio in 1977 and to the West Coast in 1979. But he has kept up his loyalty to the Indians, Browns and Cavaliers --please put him in the diehard fan category! He graduated from Solon High School in 1971, Clarion University of Pennsylvania in 1975 (he played four years of basketball there) and Kent State University in 1977 (MBA).

Every March, as the Cleveland Indians report to spring training, it is easy to reminisce about playing baseball as a kid. Those memories flood back like an old-fashioned movie reel of yesteryear.

Our earliest fields of dreams were often asphalt lots at our neighborhood schools and rough-hewn expanses of grass and dirt. We played games with tennis, rubber, Wiffle and soft balls. Just us kids, competing and having fun, without any adult supervision.

One popular game was to pitch to a strike zone drawn with chalk on a school’s vertical brick wall. A tall or short batter was stuck with the same strike zone box -- one size fit all. Sometimes there was one fielder per team, but mostly it was just a pitcher vs. a batter. It’s hard to find such a strike zone box in neighborhoods today.

1963 was the first year I played organized baseball. The team was made up of 9- and 10-year-old boys who attended Nativity BVM School on Aetna Road, near East 93rd Street. When baseball positions were discussed, many hands shot up for third base, shortstop and center field. For the catcher position, only one hand was raised.

That hand was quickly joined by my hand, even though I had never worn a catcher’s mask, chest protector or shin guards. I didn’t know what a catcher’s cup was, either, but I knew that John Romano and Joe Azcue were the Indians’ catchers.

We played games at Woodland Hills Park on Kinsman Road, where there were a number of baseball fields. The teams were named after Indians players, and our team was the Helds, named after shortstop Woodie Held.

This was real baseball, played with a hard ball with real seams, and it stung if you got hit by a pitch or a bouncing ground ball. Everyone who stepped up to bat was thinking about the possibility of getting hit by the pitcher, but you tried hard not to show it. The pitchers who threw really hard had a huge advantage.

Buying and collecting baseball cards also was popular, and I could buy them by riding my bike down the hill to Kasilka’s Dairy -- or up the hill to Lucarelli’s Deli. I wasn’t a serious card collector, and the pink-colored gum found its way to my mouth quickly.

Nearly every other baseball card pack that I bought that summer had an Al Luplow card in it. Even though Luplow was a reserve outfielder for the Indians, his card was quickly found attached by a clothespin to a spoke on my bicycle wheel. Sorry, Al.

After we moved to Solon, I played on the Little League Braves team in the summer of 1965. Games were against many friends, and bragging rights were at stake. We wore full uniforms, and it was just plain unadulterated fun!

The Cleveland Plain Dealer offered some free Indians tickets to students who earned straight A’s. Even though the games were poorly attended, the ushers at Municipal Stadium made sure you stared at the thousands of empty seats that separated you from the field of play -- at least up to the eighth inning. Then, they would finally let you move up closer to see Rocky Colavito, our hero.

Baseball is both grand and old, and the springtime memories bring back the kid in us. I hope that my recollections pleasantly nudge some memories for readers and bring with them a joyful smile.

Listen up, as the umpire is about to yell: Play ball!

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Play ball (we wish we could!): Tim Corbett - cleveland.com
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