Like the night before, I awoke from a dream at about 5 am, in our room at the Inn at Spanish Bay. I dreamed I came to bat as a Dodger pinch hitter at Dodger Stadium against the St. Louis Cardinals. I walked in 4 pitches, each pitcher so wild, I faced 3 different pitchers as I batted between grocery store aisles lined up between home plate and the pitcher's mound.
While at bat and then on base, I wore my fabric Dodger cap, but no hard plastic protective helmet. Through the next two batters also walking, I arrived at 3rd base and stood next to the Cardinal 3rd baseman, "Hank Blaylock," who while I was on 2nd base kept screaming, "Hey runner, you need a protective helmet." I called out to the Dodger 3rd base coach for such a helmet to protect my head but he ignored me until I got to 3rd base and I was finally given one.
While I was on 3rd base, a batter hit a soft ground ball to 3rd base and Blaylock threw me out at home plate, a force play. In the dream I spoke to Anne and said, "what was I supposed to do? The runner from 2nd (base) was already arriving at 3rd (base) and I had no where to go but home." She agreed with me but I was disappointed in myself, thinking there had to be a better way, another alternative than to allow myself to be forced out.
Coming back to the bench, I looked around and Dodger players were sitting around in the 3rd base dugout and sideline, informal and somewhat disorganized. It reminded me of when I coached Pee Wee League baseball in the 1970's when the parents and children would mingle during the games.
Meanwhile, the Cardinals were well organized and had camaraderie. They looked like a winning team in their snappy Red uniforms, supporting each other as they won the game. I found playing for the Dodgers, a long ago boyhood fantasy to be frustrating and disappointing.
Perhaps this dream was influenced by a Sports Illustrated article I read the prior day about the UCLA basketball team, for many years, especially under coach John Wooden, a premier college basketball program, now in disarray, which is how I think of the Dodgers, a team in bankruptcy and for sale.
Perhaps this is a metaphor for my life in which I would like the U.S., long a preeminent nation that commanded global respect and is now a global military bully, its government bankrupt financially and morally. I feel powerless to change this, just as I have no control over what happens to the Dodgers or UCLA basketball. But with the U.S. I will continue the effort, frustrating and disappointing as it may be.
It's funny but pinch hitting in the Dodger game, I didn't focus on being 67 years old and not the athlete of my youth. It was the team that needed correction, not me, and I felt I could help correct it.
Dick
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