Much has been written over the past couple of weeks about the excitement of Spring Training, as Major League players turn out in the Florida and Arizona sunshine to renew their love affair with baseball. The possibilities seem limitless, the season ahead always looks bright and promising.  But to enjoy all of that you have to be able to play the game!!  For the Herts club, another week's training has been defeated by the bad weather, the second in a row. After a pretty successful pre-pre-season in the gym and on hard courts, the return to the grassy diamond has been something of a bust. All when it seemed tantalisingly close. 

Like many Herts players I have to get my fix where I can. In this instance, as seen in this grainy photo, it was at work, in the middle of a night shift, throwing the ball against a handy wall. Not textbook training, perhaps, but the next best thing if the weather doesn't want to co-operate. As long as you can put up with the odd curious security guard, and rats chasing each other around the nearby bins, it's a great location.  No, really, it is.

To add insult to inconvenience, the day outside is clear and sunny as I write this. That's no use now! We need the right weather at the right time. Last season we had good luck all summer. Let’s hope the recent burst of bad weather is the storm before the calm.

Rob Jones and the Herts baseball family take their first steps into pre-season training.    more »

Rob Jones looks back at an unforgettable year for the Herts Raptors.   more »

I went 0-4 at the plate, and muffed one of only two fielding chances to come my way. And yet I enjoyed the whole thing immensely. This was the 2009 Kyle Hunlock Series.    more »

"This was a last ride on the Raptors rollercoaster before the Theme Park closed for the season. There were a few screams, stomachs churned, hands were waved in the air -- and when it was over, we wanted to do it all again."   more »

Is it possible to look forward to a game and yet -- at the same time -- hope it never happens? The end of the season is nigh...    more »

It's already ten past eleven. The game was due to start at 11. The rain is falling, and we only have seven players. "Welcome to recreational baseball"  says one wag. This is the time of year when it gets harder and harder to muster a team -- people go off on holiday, early season enthusiasm wanes, and players drift off. And when we get a rare rainy day, it's even harder to leap out of bed on a Sunday morning to do your thing.

But with a patchwork team we took the field. Paul pitched for the first time -- ever -- in a competitive game. I took second base for the first time this season. And things didn't start that well, with the visiting Pirates racking up eight runs off us.  I thought Paul did a really good job but we could have backed him up better. For example, one routine infield pop-up fell to earth needlessly. Off the bat it looked like it had some air on it and, being decisive, I gave a loud shout and moved in. But then it started to die, still yards in front of me. And I realised I wasn't going to get there even with a dive. It was falling close behind Paul, and Ilya was coming in from shortstop, but the ball ended up in the grass between us all.  Now, Ilya had the right to call me off, but we are both learning our positions, so that is the sort of situation where you are exposed by lack of practice as a unit.   

Overall, I think I still have a bit of a tendency to get sucked into the centre of the diamond looking for a play to make, as I have not yet developed the innate sense of where I need to be. Watching some Major League action on Monday I saw players move around so smoothly it made you sick. Earlier this season, my positioning cost me a couple of outs which I could have made had I been standing someplace else. On one occasion in this game when I had moved towards third (arguably for good reason -- to help guide the cut off from the outfield, precisely because we are novices) the play ended with a tag out at second base made not by me but by Matt, the right fielder, who had astutely come in to cover.

I was pleased to get in one successful tag of my own. A runner made the turn for second -- possibly on an overthrow, I can't remember -- but our wily manager Marty, playing first base, saw the opportunity and sent a good throw my way. This time I had been able to think quickly enough about where I needed to be -- over the bag, so I was out of the runner's way, but could still make the play in front of it. I was able to apply the tag just in front and get the out. I regret to say that I did indulge in a moment of celebration (for which I hereby apologise to the Croydon manager!). I meant no disrespect, but was merely excited to be part of a genuine bang-bang play. I got to make a couple more plays, including one graceless stop of a ground ball threatening to disappear up the middle, which ended with me crawling after the ball on the infield dirt. It's the results that matter, that's what I say!

And it was another week of terrible swings at the plate. Two strikeouts -- the first from an at-bat which started 2-0 -- and then a walk once I had got myself under enough control to foul off pitches and leave alone the junk! I'll give myself a brownie point for reaching base on a dropped third strike, the first time I remember ever having the presence of mind to do so. We put together a good rally in the final inning and it was a really fun game to play in. Once you get to late July, you have to enjoy the fact that you can keep it together at all. 

It's Thursday. The sun is shining, sporadically. The rain is falling, intermittently. It's the time of the week when you start to get unnaturally nervous about the weather. It's especially true for me this week as I have taken the day off from work on Sunday just so I can play for the Raptors against Southampton. A rainout would be doubly annoying. And in the context of the weather we have had this year, it might even be considered trebly annoying. When I started the blog I joked that there would be a bit about the weather in it, because it normally plays quite a role in any British summer sport. But for the most part this year has been glorious. Even on occasions when we thought it would rain, it didn't, and one game -- against Guildford I think -- was sunny against all odds.

I don't know what is considered the "perfect weather" for baseball. I remember some absolute scorchers, many of them against Richmond for some reason, but is that really the best? It is certainly good for your suntan, but four hours on a baking field in long pants and a heavy shirt is not ideal.  We got through about four litres of water each at one of those Richmond games. And after one in Essex I had to drive home round the M25 and then go to work and do a night shift. However, don't think I am arguing in favour of the cold and wet option. I may be British to the core, but I'm not that daft.

Whatever happens on Sunday, let's just hope it's playable. Or I might sulk. Again.

"Hello, Hello. It's good to be back, it's good to be back. Hello, Hello. It's good to be back, it's good to be back. Did you miss me, Yeah, while I was away"    more »

I have pressure-washed my patio. I have used my ten year old coffee machine to make my first ever cappuccino. And I have grilled some chicken with my new Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine. These are the things which bring excitement to my life in the absence of baseball.

I have now been four weeks without so much as a sniff of the leather mitt, and it's clearly messing with my mind. After posting about the frustrations of an extended "break" from the game last time around, things went from bad to worse. Our training day was changed so that instead of rarely being able to make it, I can never make it. Ever. So this barren streak will probably run to five full weeks. In that time the team has won one and lost one. So it's hard to tell whether they are missing me! Certainly not as much as I am missing them.

At the first baseball training session I ever attended, one of the old salts was moaning about the limited schedule which had been drawn up for that season -- "To be any good at this game" he said, "you have to play it a lot." I have since learned to my cost how right he is. Obviously practice makes perfect at any sport, but baseball above all repays your work -- a pitcher needs to be able to repeat his exact mechanics over and over again to deliver success; the infielder needs to take hundreds of ground balls, maybe thousands, before he gets to do it smoothly, with the glove and the ball mere extensions of his very self.

But that level of repetition is simply not available to many of us. I am coming to the end of my first "dry spell" of the year, when work and family keep me away from the game for weeks. I have missed a training session, a game, another training session, and then another game. It'll be a miracle if I remember anything by the time I pull on the glove again!  At the very least, the break means you have to get your eye in when you come back. The fact that we're talking about baseball perhaps makes this problem more acute -- for example, I have been kicking a football since I was five years old, and the game is pretty well hard-wired in my head, while the relatively new sport of baseball requires rather more conscious work.

Of course, this situation is not unique to me. It affects lots of us. We have some extraordinarily dedicated people at the club, who have helped create four adult teams and a flourishing little league, and I marvel at how they manage it. I can't even fall back on the simple theory that they don't have the small children who demand my time -- because some of them do. Bang goes my best excuse for the weaknesses of my game! Perhaps there is no solution to the problem. How does the lowly amateur make time to satisfy the needs of his game, and yet still satisfy the other needs of his life?

I am torn over the question of whether yesterday's game against Braintree went well for me, or badly. In my first complete game as a shortstop, I made what were far and away my most accomplished plays so far. That is to say, I fielded two ground balls cleanly, and made accurate throws to first -- on the second occasion I even added a little extra zip on the throw to make sure I beat the runner. Very satisfying.

And that is probably how I would have remembered the day, if it hadn't been for the manner of my final at-bat. I struck out looking in the seventh inning, with only one out, men on base and the Raptors needing just a couple of runs to keep the game alive. It capped a day of poor swings at the plate, and as we packed up our gear a few moments later, I could only sit and brood about it. Sadly, my young son was not around to offer his famous pick-me-up "Don't be grumpy, Daddy"!

It's often a matter of timing and dumb luck which decides how you feel about your day, and it's the same for a ball game. That strikeout was the cancelled train on the way home, the deal which falls through at the last minute, the text saying "let's be friends" after a hot date. Let's hope the black clouds fade and let the sunshine in.

"Lord Nelson, Lord Beaverbrook, Sir Winston Churchill, Sir Anthony Eden, Clement Attlee, Henry Cooper, Lady Diana ... Maggie Thatcher, can you hear me? Maggie Thatcher ... your boys took a hell of a beating!"   more »

It's two days since the game ended, and my body is slowly recovering. The bruise which stopped me closing my hand is starting to fade, the gash on my shin has new skin. And when I think that I got off lightly compared to some of my team mates, you do wonder why we do this for fun. The Raptors have so far shown an alarming enthusiasm for putting their bodies on the line -- Ken has tried repeatedly to separate himself from his shoulder; Iwan tried to hurdle the catcher to steal home and nearly broke his back. And all this is without our most persistent masochists getting involved -- Stevie normally gets poleaxed on a regular basis, but instead, at the weekend, he was stroking RBI doubles.

So is there any need for all this pain? Over my years at the Herts club, we have had any number of bleeding faces and black eyes (including one of my own), all topped off with a broken jaw (not mine). But nobody flinches. My wife thinks we're all bonkers. I suspect she's right. Maybe it's all part of the release we get by playing competitive sports. And kept within sensible limits, I think injury is a perfectly healthy part of sport.

This was a case of "Going back through the change". Not so much a bold vision of the future, more a return to the past. To fill our needs with only nine players available, I was in the outfield this week.  And it was a nice, comfortable fit. Five catches, I think, including one of those satisfying slick moments that I was hoping for in my last entry -- a sliding, diving catch in shallow centre field, the sort you want to watch over and over on the highlight reels. I didn't make a single out at the plate, so I will count that as a positive, too -- although getting hit by a pitch for the second week running had not been part of the plan.

And how about the team? I think we would all agree we were a bit outclassed this week, but when the opposition is reportedly stacked with GB-squad talent, that's no disgrace.  Our pitcher, Jon, was once again a complete stud, and only really gave up two big hits. The others were just ground balls finding holes, or close defensive plays that we didn't quite make.  Our batters are starting to be patient at the plate, and we capitalised on walks handed out by the relief pitchers, to the point where we nearly avoided the slaughter rule!

 

It's that time of week when you really start to feel the presence of the weekend's game, just around the corner. I work shifts, so the "Friday feeling" is a bit of a mystery to me -- but the imminence of a baseball game gives life a whole new sheen. You check the weather forecast; you start planning your route to an away game; and you catch yourself practising your batting swing while waiting in line at the canteen. There is the tantalising possibility that the last week's disappointments can be replaced with slick plays in the field, and majestic hits at the plate. Every week, it's a fresh, green canvas. Maybe that's what keeps us coming back.

 

This was my first game of the season so there were lots of firsts - the first satisfying out; the first frustrating error; the first hit; the first walk. And I was on first base, too. It's almost poetic isn't it?

The first out came quickly, in the top of the first inning, a ground ball slower than I originally judged, so it didn't have the momentum it needed to jump into my glove. Therefore I juggled it before running to first and stepping on the bag. Not smooth, but an out nonetheless. The key mistake came late in the game. First is an unforgiving position -- great to be involved so often, but the out is considered routine, the easy play, and you have to make it. When it would have really helped us to beat the runner, I let a low throw from the shortstop slip out of my glove, when I might've done better to have scooped it up. You learn. Well, let's hope.

Overall there were bright spots for the team. Our inexperience showed but there were few howlers, if any, and there is heart in abundance. We lost by what the Americans would call "a football score" but it could all have been so different. I am up and running, with a mix of good and bad on the report card.

 

Hello there,

I am Rob Jones, of the Herts Raptors. I have been with the club for six years, playing pretty much exclusively as an outfielder. Having finally won a Gold Glove last year, I am now trying out life as an infielder. That is the "Change" that this blog will be about. Of course, it'll also be about the team's ups and downs, the joys and frustrations of life as a small-time British baseball player, and probably a bit about the weather.