Mud, Baseball and Father's Day

 

My Dad knew how to get a baseball field ready for play after a big rain.

The St. Joseph  Little League City Championship game, played sometime in the 1950’s, would never have been played if not for Walter Dunn.

He brought in a helicopter to dry the field.

Dad knew to soak sawdust with a mixture of coal oil and gasoline and spread it on the dirt.  I can still picture him raking the flames.  He raked mud into submission and had a knack for getting 25 or 30 guys to spend an entire Saturday getting a field ready so the boys  could play.

When we moved to Savannah, Missouri, Dad brought his field-drying magic with him.

He knew where the water would stand at the Savannah Park softball field and had us out digging trenches in the rain.  We worked well into the early mornings preparing  softball fields for district championship play.

Dad knew how to do make a soggy mess into a manicured infield. Mostly, he enjoyed giving a kid a chance to play ball.

He didn’t just dry fields for the big games.  Walter had a sense that a schedule was to be honored and a game should be played.  It was the game he loved; and, what a kids becomes when he makes a fine play or blasts a hanging curve over an outfielder’s head.

I’ve saw him many times sitting in a grandstand, watching a baseball game, and picking blisters from raking mud. He was the reason the kids got to play.

I don’t have a Dad to surprise with breakfast in bed or a sentimental card.

I do have a memory however, and my Dad shows up there at the strangest times. 

There was the Memorial Day that my brother and I sat behind home plate, picking our blisters from raking mud and getting a ball field ready for play.

Neither of us had a kid in the game.  We just up and volunteered to help get the field ready.

“Field looks pretty good,” we said to each other, and then enjoyed seeing kids get to play.

My brother and I had a great Dad, and we still want to be just like him from time to time.