Same Place...Different Country

When a person moves to a new country you have a tendency to look at things as unique, as exotic, as new. The reality is they are only different but yet still fullfill the same void as the activities that you considered mundane in your own world.

This weekend I was at a birthday party with my girlfriend and many of our friends, most of whom were originally her friends from college. The party consisted of sitting around a garage, eating, drinking, listening to music, and sharing stories. It reminded me of home only wrapped in a different language.

It was an event in which we remembered while still not avoiding the greatness of our present day lives. We talked about, when we were...types of things and still showed baby pictures. It was a chance to be young, but still share our real life.

This weekend was the Minnesota State High School tournament. For you have an idea of what that means my explanation is understood, for the others my explanation is under embellished. It is the greatest moment in any young mans life in Minnesota. To this day I would give a small finger or toe to have played in it.

Seeing highlights of the event it reminds me of a time when things were simpler. Something we often assume is reserved only to our selves in that specific time or place. It is the love of our life that high school girlfriend, or playing for the varsity team, or graduating with honors and taking out the familie's good car to the senior party.

Little did I know but those same things occur at the same time across the world. We really aren't that different and no matter where we go those times are always revered as special and real, but forever a dream.

The Perfect Role Model of Amateur Baseball?

Besides scouting I make my living working with development in Norwegian baseball. There's a good market for it here, development that is. I guess it's a more polite way of saying we don't have so many people playing and generally speaking we aren't real good. Not too mention there's a lot of snow.

One of the largest problems we face is that many of the people in the softball and baseball community here have never seen what the sport can become. They lack vision, not because they don't care or are uninspiring people, but because they have simply never seen the game in its glory.

A major role model for me in establishing a more robust amateur baseball system here in Norway is the Minnesota Amateur Baseball League I grew up playing in, otherwise known as town ball. It is a collection of some 300+ teams around the state who play in various divisions and leagues based on ability level and geography. Most importantly it is a place where people can go to play and the game is still handled in a serious and professional manner.

In Litchfield where I grew up the local amateur team was the Litchfield Blues. Our team motto's included things such as;

• Blues don't die, we multiply
• Win or lose the Blues will Booze

We were a slapstick version of the St. Louis Cardinal's Gas House Gang of the 30's. Just a bunch of working stiffs who showed up at the park a few times a week and worked their butts off to play the game as hard as they could and win at all costs.

The organization itself was, still is, and probably always will be centered around our exprofessional pitching manager Rube Nathe. He has a lot of character just within himself and is a good baseball man. Rain or shine he shows up at the park and puts together the best lineup we can on the back of his cable bill envelope.

Behind the plate was Russ Nathe, the youngest son of Rube. His brother Greg played right field and is an architect. He is also know for having regular bowel movements which have been known to delay the start of an inning.

Centerfield was occupied by Danny Estrada while his twin brother Eddie played third base. The Estrada's were famous, or notorious throughout the state for their outstanding athleticsm and aggressive nature.

At first base was Dallas Stoffel who was and still is one of the longest tenured players in the Blues 29 year history. Over at second was Dalen Jones a signpainter and son of a signpainter, and brother of a signpainter. He and Dallas are'nt brothers but they very well could be.

In left field was Troy Urdahl. The son of a teacher, Dean who later became a Representative in the Minnesota House of Representatives. I played shortstop and did nothing except take batting practice all day, work on the baseball field, and play whiffle ball with Troy and our friends in the evenings. Troy and I were'nt brothers, but we we very well could've been.

On the mound was my high school baseball coach Jeff Wollin. He just recently announced his retirement after what seemed like a career that stretched out over 300 years. Jeff was crafty and polite unlike the rest of the crew who were pretty much vulgar and blunt. But inside he was more competetive than the rest of us.

Also filling out the rotation for a few years was Rod Shroeder. At the time Rod was a local milk man and former high school standout. In one season I think he won 18 games, out a 35 game schedule!

Coaching third base was Mike Wick. Mike had been with the club since its inception in 1977. He was also the man who got me involved with the Blues many years earlier when he asked me to be bat boy on a muggy June night. An avid Rolling Stones fan and the voice of reason in a rather chaotic and unreasonable environment.

We had a lot of guys who filled out the roster but always contributed when called upon. Many of them coming up with the biggest plays of our season and driving the starting nine to be just uncomfortable enough to keep working hard. Darren Rothstein could pretty much play anywhere on the field, logged quite a few innings on the mound when needed, and one year delivered a clutch home run to give us a big playoff victory. Tom Schulte, a high school classmate of mine filled in the outfield and made sure to be at every game and every batting practice rain or shine. Tom suffered severe burns in an accident our senior year of high school but worked his way back to the field not long after. In one state tournament game he even made a spectacular catch against the fence to rob our arch rivals, the Watkins Clippers of a crucial 2 run home run.

All of these guys, no matter how crude, obnoxious, or uncouthe they seemed worked hard for one another to form what I consider to be one of the best teams I have ever seen take a baseball field. We were not liked very much by our opponents and many thought we were disrespectful. I like to think we just cared a lot more than anybody else, making everything the opposition did seem unimportant.

These regular working class stiffs, office managers, painters, day laborers, teachers, mechanics, etc...they formed a pretty good club all while managing families and real life problems. I doubt I'll ever build a team like that here in Norway, let alone anywhere in terms of ability. But if I can scrape together a few guys who care as much as we did...we'll be in pretty good shape.

The Four Month Itch

Every year around this time I get the itch in a bad way. It's been a little over 4 months since the World Series, the snow is beginning to melt a little, and spring training games are beginning to be played. The anticipation for the season to come is absolutely killing me.

I figured this year would be easier on me. I attended our clubs organizational meetings and fall instructional league in Ft. Myers, Florida last October. I didn't return home to Oslo until the 2nd of November which made me think the winter would'nt seem so long. Apparently it has had the opposite effect. Instead of the season creeping up on me I catch myself staring out the window waiting for spring to come.

Winter can be a busy time for a scout even those of us in cold climate territories. My territory must be the coldest of them all being in Northern Europe. I try to view my off-season much like a player does by using it as a time to rebuild, heal, and sometime reinvent myself. This can be a physical, emotional, and organizational rebuilding process.

Physically speaking I try to hit the gym and be as physically active all winter as my life allows. My theory is that the nature of scouting means many late nights, lots of travel, and loads of stress and uncertainty. This usally means I don't have time to exercise regularly enough. So I train as though I'm entering a long battle.

Mentally I can usually feel my body crash the moment I step off the plane from my last trip. I actually feel the tension ease when i begin to see the Norwegian coast line from the plane window. This is followed by a week or two of inactivity where I don't even look at a baseball. OK, I'm lying, I never go a day without looking at a baseball, but I don't stay as involved as I do in the midst of the season. During the winter I also try to take up a new hobby or interest, something I have always wanted to do or have idealized would be an interesting topic. I go through stints where I want to make really good food, write a book, or study a new language. This doesn't last long however, and usually I fall back into my old routines.

The final stage revolves around organization. I'm currently in the midst of this stage. I have made efforts throughout the winter to stay in touch with players and coaches and now begin to prepare my materials for the upcoming season. This means ensuring my stopwatches work, my game cards I use for taking notes are ready and printed, and I have a collection of schedules in place. I then make out a game plan...only to have it modified within the first week of the season.

I still have a few weeks until the season falls on my head. In the meantime I try to enjoy some quality time at home and look forward to watching the previous nights spring training games online while I eat breakfast and drink coffee. I try to cherish these last moments as I know it won't be long until I hit the freak trail while hunting for the next phenom.