Baseball memories shared during a football game

I ran into Jack Schultz near the end of Thursday night’s NRHEG home opening football game for the Panthers. He and I had been in a number of high school classes together. In my head, he had stayed a high-schooler–until I was confronted last week by the obvious fact he had become an adult. 

 

Such was my level of surprise, I stated numerous times during our conversation, “You’re an adult now.” Seeing Jack from that perspective forced me to recognize I am also an adult. Such is life. 

 

As I was walking into a recent volleyball match, some high-schoolers were getting out of their car at the same time. 

 

“Good evening sir, how are you doing?” they asked.

 

My first reaction was to be impressed with the young fellows’ excellent manners. My next thought was to think, “I’m a ‘sir’ now.”

 

I will be turning 27 in November.

 

Back to “Mr.” Schultz. 

 

We had a rich conversation, the kind that feels like a genuine human-to-human connection has been reached. As we spoke, I was reminded Jack graduated only one year later than I did. We parted ways after about 10 minutes of chatting; as I moved away, a wave of additional memories flooded my mind. 

 

One fond recollection was that Jack was the pitcher for my final high school baseball game. He threw a complete-game no-hitter. We lost 2-1 to St. James in that third round game of the section tournament.

 

Jack threw me the ball at first base in the fourth inning when they sacrificed home what would be their eventual winning run. We had runners on base every inning, including two in the final inning.

 

I remember going 0-2 from the plate with a walk in that game. In my final at bat, I remember Ryan Tri talking to me beforehand. He suggested the pitcher would throw me a first pitch strike in the heart of the plate. I almost never swung at the first pitch, but that day I did. It was low and on the corner. I connected hard, a ground ball to deep third. 

 

After that clean hit, I believe I ran my fastest speed ever to first base. The jump, my speed–I don’t believe I could have been one step faster. 

 

I was called out as my foot came down on the bag. The run from third didn’t count and I was out number three.

 

Dempsey Tucker made the final out of that game as I watched from the on-deck circle. 

 

I’ll never forget the way Coach Drew Paukert reacted when he learned and subsequently informed us Jack threw a no-hitter.

 

I think Ryan Tri walked up to him, Paukert turned to us, scoffed and said, “And Jack Schultz threw a no-hitter.” 

 

That was part way through his speech. It made me cry even harder. I was saddened by the fact we lost, but mostly I was struck by the realization my final high school baseball season had ended.

 

And then coach Tri said something I’ll never forget, something I try to tell young athletes to this day: “If this is the saddest moment in your life, think about how blessed your life must be.” 

 

And that helped. Truly, I cannot think of a better way my baseball career and high school career could have ended. It became truly storybook-esque. 

 

While I’m here I must share one more Jack Schultz story. 

 

Jack almost lost me my first high school win as a pitcher for the Panthers. 

 

We were losing to Tri-City United, ranked third in the state at the time, with a score of 4-1. Dempsey had started on the mound and pitched the first three innings. He was pulled from the game after he came off the mound and chucked his glove, in frustration, in the dugout. 

 

I pitched the next three innings. I didn’t allow a run and the most exciting part of the three innings, for TCU, was a bunt single.

 

Then the bottom of the sixth inning came around. 

 

I’m pretty sure Paukert figured we were toast because he brought in a pinch hitter for the batter in front of me–one who had had zero hits and was a bench player. Well, he got on base. And then so did I. 

 

Suddenly we had a rally. 

 

Paukert brought in alternate runners for the both of us and my day was done.

 

Well, nine batters later, we were up 7-4 going into the last inning. 

 

In comes Wild Thang Jack Schultz. 

 

Wild Thang goes on to walk the bases full, allowing two runners to score. 

 

Somehow, by prayers and the raw talent of “Wild Thang,” we somehow recorded two outs. 

 

I’m pretty sure my pacing in the dugout had something to do with what happened next. 

 

With the count full, bases full and the score 7-6 (thank all that is good) the TCU hitter swings at what surely would have been ball four and bashes the ball right in the dirt to good old Mr. Jack Schultz, who calmly, doesn’t step on home plate, but instead tosses the ball to first base for the third out. 

 

Win secured. 

 

My high school varsity career began in tenth grade when coach Paukert surprised me by asking me to start a noon game on a Saturday. 

 

It gave me a great moment. When I went home from practice that Friday I asked my dad whether he was going to come to the game on Saturday. “No, why would I,” he asked. “You’re not playing.”

 

You can imagine how I felt telling him I was starting on the mound. 

 

I always had to get through my first inning of work and I would be fine. My first start would have been no different. With two outs, one run in and two on, I induced a lazy fly ball. I exhaled, relief. I made it through. I watched our center fielder, Carson Field, put his glove up and do the old “major league” catch. But instead of staying in the glove, the ball popped out right onto the ground. 

 

I will not describe the rest of the inning, other than to say 8 runs total were scored. Including a homerun from the next hitter. (The only home run I allowed in my career.) 

 

I find myself saying often, lately, that I would not choose another time to be alive. Another profession to be in. Or even a different part of the world to call home. I consider myself incredibly blessed, fortunate. 

 

I’m glad I ran into Jack. And I’m glad whenever I have the opportunity to entertain good conversation and even better company.