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When I was a kid playing ball, I became enamored with the way Mets’ second baseman Doug Flynn could turn a doubleplay. It seemed the ball would barely touch his glove and it would somehow be on its way to first base. I did not care that Flynn could not hit. Watching him around the bag was mesmerizing. I would practice trying to Turn it Like Flynn. I’d also try to mimic the swings of George Brett, Fred Lynn and Jerry Remy. When I became a baseball writer, I still had crushes on certain players’ actions. Ken Griffey Jr. Everything about Junior was beautiful to watch. But my adoration wasn’t reserved for stars. For example, I had a thing for Pokey Reese. The way he threw across the diamond. Pokey Freaking Reese. What’s the point? I guess, for me, the game I love will always be about falling in love.
Friday, January 2, 2015
#BuckFiftyADay: A Love Note to Doug Flynn?
When I was a kid playing ball, I became enamored with the way Mets’ second baseman Doug Flynn could turn a doubleplay. It seemed the ball would barely touch his glove and it would somehow be on its way to first base. I did not care that Flynn could not hit. Watching him around the bag was mesmerizing. I would practice trying to Turn it Like Flynn. I’d also try to mimic the swings of George Brett, Fred Lynn and Jerry Remy. When I became a baseball writer, I still had crushes on certain players’ actions. Ken Griffey Jr. Everything about Junior was beautiful to watch. But my adoration wasn’t reserved for stars. For example, I had a thing for Pokey Reese. The way he threw across the diamond. Pokey Freaking Reese. What’s the point? I guess, for me, the game I love will always be about falling in love.
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