One Bronze Badge And One Homerun.

While growing up I was subjected daily to my mother’s constant quoting of bible scriptures. One I will never forget as it pertained to my eagerness for always wanting to play sports.

“Bodily training is beneficial for a little, but Godly devotion is beneficial for all things.”

During my teenage years I would never have been considered a strong, masculine or athletic type of guy. As much as I wished I could have been that jock type guy in my high school, I never even came close. I was tall, gangly, awkward and I had minimal strength for my six-foot-five height. I would have been that guy who had the sand kicked in his face at the beach and did absolutely nothing about it.

I loved gym class, but I hated doing gymnastics, wrestling and swimming. I was however a good runner. I could run long distances pretty well, but was not much of a threat when it came to shorter sprints like the hundred yard dash.

For me when I was a kid, my only real physical activities consisted of riding my bike during the summer and playing both road or ice hockey during the other months. Since we had no family car I also did a lot of walking, I was always walking anywhere and everywhere.

Back in the seventies most high school students in Canada participated in the Fitness Awards Program. The program was designed to promote health and fitness among Canadian youth. Students who completed the program would be awarded one of four badges based on their results after completing the six required activities. The annual weeklong event consisted of a 50 yard dash and a shuttle run for determining speed and quickness. Sit-ups, push-ups, flexed arm hangs and standing long jumps would be used to determine strength and flexibility. All fitness test results were recorded and submitted to Fitness and Sport Canada. They would review them and send awards and certificates to schools to distribute to all participating students.

The badges were either gold, silver or bronze based on your performance in the fitness test compared to the national standard. A student who achieved above 95% on all six tests received the Award of Excellence badge.

In my school I only remember just a couple students ever receiving an Award of Excellence. In addition to the three inch embroidered badge they also received a certificate from the Government of Canada acknowledging their excellent achievement. I had more of a chance of winning a lottery than I did ever winning the Award of Excellence badge.

The weeklong event was always something I dreaded for the six years I participated from 1972 until I graduated in 1978. For the first five years I failed miserably and could not even achieve the national minimum standard. I was such an embarrassment to myself as many of the girls in my class would put me to shame.

It was the one time each school year that I truly considered myself a complete failure. Just like my bad report cards, after each year's test I vowed to myself I would do better the following year. Each year I did do slightly better, but still not enough to reach that minimal national standard where the bar was set rather low. Finally, on my sixth and final test, I blew the doors wide open. (I say that tongue in cheek)

I was awarded a bronze badge.

To the athletic jock type guys who I envied, a bronze would be considered a total failure and most of them would throw a bronze badge right into the garbage. However, to me my bronze badge was like a gold medal. I was so proud of myself that I had finally won an award, any award and to this very day I still have it. My high school diploma and my bronze badge are both framed together. Although most would consider both of these minimal life accomplishments, they are my minimal life accomplishments.

And I was never guaranteed either one of them.

It was not until I started working at Collegiate Sports that I began participating in other sports and activities. I was already playing tennis and hockey. I also tried my hand at skiing, golf, racquetball, flag football and baseball.

Baseball was the one sport that we actually had a store team and in 1980 a handful of stores in the Yorkdale Mall organized an intermural summer league. If I recall there were four maybe five teams and we all competed for the Obies Cup. Obies was a family restaurant in the mall. The mall summer league was very competitive and most of the guys on my Collegiate Sports team took it very seriously.

Me, not so much.

Our store manager had team shirts made up; I wore number nine and played first base. On top of our once a week game, we also practiced once a week. Most of the guys on the team worked at the store so much of our daily conversations revolved around our upcoming games and our strategy going into them.

Seriously? It wasn’t even real baseball, we played fastpitch softball.

Some of my work colleagues absolutely loved baseball. They were always talking about games they watched on television, stats of their favorite players and anything else baseball related. At times they were just as annoying to me with all their baseball talk as I must have been to them during hockey season with all my hockey talk.

I didn’t dislike baseball; I just never liked it as much as they all did. I persisted and I tried to get better at baseball, or should I say softball. I later found out that the first base position was the easiest position to play. I found that rather strange since I was probably the least talented player on the team. Yet, I was put in a position where I was involved in almost every defensive play.

My problem was hitting, I could not hit worth a shit. Standing at home plate with some guy throwing a ball as fast as he could from forty feet away was intimidating for me.

I struck out a lot.

Eventually, I figured out my easiest way to get to first base was to get hit by a pitch. I became quite skilled at the art of leaning into the plate and having the ball strike me in my left upper thigh and hip area. I actually practiced this skill weekly and I became very bruised with all the welt marks from balls hitting my body. It was ridiculous how black and blue some parts of my body became and it only got worse as the season progressed.

After that inaugural season the first Obies Cup was awarded. The trophy was displayed in the restaurant with the first brass shield engraved '1980 Collegiate Sports'. There were many extra empty brass shields on the trophy. The goal was to continue the yearly summer tournament, but some of my teammates had other ideas. They now wanted to move up to a higher caliber, more competitive league.

Once the following summer approached the Collegiate Sports team was no more. A new team was formed made up mostly of the same NWAA guys I was playing hockey with on Saturday nights. Surprisingly they asked me to play, not because I was any good, but most likely because they needed some stiff to play first base. This stiff had already been doing the job so it was offered to me again.

We had pinstriped shirts made up and this time I wore number ninety-nine. We were now playing in a fastball league out in Etobicoke. Some weeks we played twice and we always practiced at least once a week. This baseball nonsense was becoming very time consuming. As well there were night games under the lights and weekend tournaments sprinkled in throughout the summer.

Everything was so much more intensified in the new highly competitive league. There were more teams, real umpires, faster pitches and many more bruises to my left side. It was during that summer I began to dislike playing. The guys who ran the team wanted an upgrade at first base anyway and I was not asked back to play the following year. There were no hard feelings, I was happy they were moving on without me.

I knew I sucked at baseball, I mean softball.

I do have one amazing memory though. It was from the one game that I hit my first and only homerun ever.

We were playing a team out in East York at Dentonia Park and I got a good swing at a pitch. I must have hit it right on the sweet spot because the ball sailed over the left fielder's head. The fielder ran after the ball, but it had rolled down into a ravine behind the park. By the time he picked up the ball, I had already crossed home plate.

Twenty years later I had many accounts on my ice cream route near Dentonia Park. One day I parked my truck and walked over to the old baseball diamond. I stood right at home plate and relived that homerun in my head. I felt like the legendary Mickey Mantle returning back to Yankee Stadium.

In my head I could hear the fans cheering as I rounded third base and headed for home. It sure seemed to me back then that I had hit the ball so far while rounding the bases for my very first time. The reality was, it wasn’t that far at all and the ball rolling down into the ravine was the only reason why I have an actual homerun memory today.

Anyways I’ll still take it, afterall I never got another one. Along with my single bronze badge, I also hit a single homerun.

I am equally proud of both.