Drawn to the Game: A Baseball Story
It is a chilly,
bright spring Saturday morning on the little league field at Mount Vernon Park
in South Lawrence, MA sometime in the mid 1960’s. It is the first day of
tryouts for the South Lawrence West Phillies and I am among a group of other
(approx. 5000) kids gathered in the outfield. Mr. Morin, my friend’s father was
the coach and he stood far away at home plate with a bat in his hands. One by
one he would call out our names and in a motion that was impossible to
comprehend, toss a ball up in the air, and quickly grasp the bat with both
hands hitting the ball in the general direction of each of us. The purpose of
this was to see who of us could actually field a fly ball.
I stood there nervously somewhere in left field that morning completely unsure of what I was supposed to do. I stood on a baseball field for probably the first time in my life and on my left hand was an old, stiff leather glove that had been in the family for years. I watched in amazement as the other kids with varying degrees of ease and athleticism ran after the ball that was hit to them, catch it and confidently toss the ball back toward home plate. Suddenly I heard “Little Joe” (an older boy was Big Joe)-this was me! The next sound was the crack of the bat hitting the ball. Now, I had never had a ball hit to me and I stood there that beautiful morning frozen and numb with fear. The next sound I heard was the thump of the ball bouncing off the green plywood outfield fence somewhere to my left. I made a few halting steps in that direction and watched as the other boys ran after the ball. One of the group expertly fielded the ball and threw it back to the coach.
Flash forward to 1990. I am in my studio in Watertown, MA. I am an art school graduate, have worked as a successful advertising art director and am now self-employed as a freelance illustrator in fulfillment of a dream I had had harbored over many years. Opening the drawer of a flat file I encountered a large, unfinished pencil drawing I had seen many times before. But now I stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. The drawing was of a young boy, wearing a baggy little league uniform and cap, and Chuck Taylor sneakers. He is pigeon-toed and bent at the knees and waist. On his left hand is an old-fashioned baseball glove that is much too large for his small hands. The expression on his face is one of subtle, yet undeniable terror. I stood there that day many years, miles and experiences from that spring morning in Lawrence. Although I had done the drawing years before I did not realize its’ significance until that moment. Without realizing it I had done a drawing of me at that tryout many years before.
I never got to wear the uniform of the South Lawrence West Phillies. I never got to put on the magical, purplish flannel pants, socks, cap and shirt with the name in script across the front. Although that dream, that wish was never fulfilled another dream was. My wish to become an artist did come true against long odds. For many years I have been drawing and painting images of baseball players. These pieces of art depict players from another era, long gone bye. Sometimes these are representational or even caricatures of actual players. Sometimes I create characters that are totally fictional. I find these made up characters to be the most satisfying and fun to create. Maybe each time I create one of these images I am, in some way, making the team. In these images, I glide effortlessly across the field, my steps sure and confident. Then in a combination of power and grace I leap and snatch the ball out of the bright spring sky as the crowd watches in amazement. I realize also the almost universal significance and truth of the boy waiting in terror for the ball to be hit to him. As in so many times in our lives as we face something unknown and terrifying we somehow face the challenge. Although our knees may be shaking with fear, we don’t run away and we do the best we can.
While working as an advertising art director and harboring the dream of being an illustrator I completed a watercolor painting of Casey at the Bat. Although I was pleased and encouraged by the resulting image I did not realize that I was starting on a path that would include a change in occupation and provide a focus for my art for many years to come. I have enjoyed, and continue to enjoy creating these images and it is my hope that you will enjoy them as much. Thank you for sharing in this personal story.
I stood there nervously somewhere in left field that morning completely unsure of what I was supposed to do. I stood on a baseball field for probably the first time in my life and on my left hand was an old, stiff leather glove that had been in the family for years. I watched in amazement as the other kids with varying degrees of ease and athleticism ran after the ball that was hit to them, catch it and confidently toss the ball back toward home plate. Suddenly I heard “Little Joe” (an older boy was Big Joe)-this was me! The next sound was the crack of the bat hitting the ball. Now, I had never had a ball hit to me and I stood there that beautiful morning frozen and numb with fear. The next sound I heard was the thump of the ball bouncing off the green plywood outfield fence somewhere to my left. I made a few halting steps in that direction and watched as the other boys ran after the ball. One of the group expertly fielded the ball and threw it back to the coach.
Flash forward to 1990. I am in my studio in Watertown, MA. I am an art school graduate, have worked as a successful advertising art director and am now self-employed as a freelance illustrator in fulfillment of a dream I had had harbored over many years. Opening the drawer of a flat file I encountered a large, unfinished pencil drawing I had seen many times before. But now I stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. The drawing was of a young boy, wearing a baggy little league uniform and cap, and Chuck Taylor sneakers. He is pigeon-toed and bent at the knees and waist. On his left hand is an old-fashioned baseball glove that is much too large for his small hands. The expression on his face is one of subtle, yet undeniable terror. I stood there that day many years, miles and experiences from that spring morning in Lawrence. Although I had done the drawing years before I did not realize its’ significance until that moment. Without realizing it I had done a drawing of me at that tryout many years before.
I never got to wear the uniform of the South Lawrence West Phillies. I never got to put on the magical, purplish flannel pants, socks, cap and shirt with the name in script across the front. Although that dream, that wish was never fulfilled another dream was. My wish to become an artist did come true against long odds. For many years I have been drawing and painting images of baseball players. These pieces of art depict players from another era, long gone bye. Sometimes these are representational or even caricatures of actual players. Sometimes I create characters that are totally fictional. I find these made up characters to be the most satisfying and fun to create. Maybe each time I create one of these images I am, in some way, making the team. In these images, I glide effortlessly across the field, my steps sure and confident. Then in a combination of power and grace I leap and snatch the ball out of the bright spring sky as the crowd watches in amazement. I realize also the almost universal significance and truth of the boy waiting in terror for the ball to be hit to him. As in so many times in our lives as we face something unknown and terrifying we somehow face the challenge. Although our knees may be shaking with fear, we don’t run away and we do the best we can.
While working as an advertising art director and harboring the dream of being an illustrator I completed a watercolor painting of Casey at the Bat. Although I was pleased and encouraged by the resulting image I did not realize that I was starting on a path that would include a change in occupation and provide a focus for my art for many years to come. I have enjoyed, and continue to enjoy creating these images and it is my hope that you will enjoy them as much. Thank you for sharing in this personal story.
Joe Farnham
Andover, MA
Andover, MA