How many times have you looked back at what shaped either a segment of your life, or possibly, all of your life. For me, this story will tell how one persons involvement in my early life would affect me another 15 years down the road. This persons actions played an important role that would shape my ability to perform in a sport that I had little experience at.

Willie Alexander. In the 7th grade at Sequoia Jr. High, Willie and I had P.E. together. And it was during the spring months when we would play softball. I wasn’t particularly fond of softball. I didn’t hate it, I just wasn’t good at it. Willie was a very athletic person. I know he towered over me being maybe all of 4′ something. 4′ something and maybe 100 lbs dripping wet. I was small, thin, kinda wiry which is why my soccer coach liked me. Willie I believe did some track, and basketball and I’m sure some baseball. He was picked to be one of the team leaders for our softball games. When picking teams, he chose me. Albeit, just about last but I was chosen to be on his team.

Now, being very un-athletic, I was put in right field. Willie played as a rover and would stay over on my side of the field. Now it was about to get tough. As the game went on, and balls were hit to my side of the field, I was either dropping them with my mitt or letting them sail over my head for another home run. Willie was visibly upset with me. “YOU SORRY DALE! SORRY!”, he would yell as I would just lower my head ashamed of my performance, or lack there of. This would be repeated throughout the season. I wanted to give up. Of course I can’t because it’s P.E.. Then I would start criticizing myself on why I let things happen. Why couldn’t I make a play? Why did Willie pick me?!

But as often was the case, all of Willie’s barking at me and constant criticism was usually followed afterwards, like when we were back in the locker rooms, with words of encouragement and instruction. “This is how you need to make the grab” or “if you play back a little further to make sure the ball stays in front of you” were some of the things he would say to give me encouragement. As rough as he was on the field with me, he was just the opposite off of it. I wanted to be better too.

Willie was someone who was well liked and respected on campus. He was a good student in class and always held his head high, not out of any arrogance, but because he had a positive attitude toward life and himself. Willie was also my bodyguard.

Like I said before, I was small, thin, and very introverted in the 7th grade. We were standing in the hall outside the gym waiting for the bell to ring so we could go to lunch. The whole P.E. class was there. This guy that was bigger than me, came up to me and wanted to fight. Something about the real estate I was standing on was previously purchased by him. He was right in my face. Before I could say anything, Willie charges in between myself and the guy who wanted my spot. “If you want to fight him, you have to go through me first” exclaimed Willie. The crowd ooohed and awed about this. The guy just through up his hands and said “I don’t wanna fight you man.” And with that, the guy walked away. I told Willie “Thanks” but in his style, he just looked past me. It was his way.

Flash forward 15 years later, and I’m on my companies city league softball team. It’s made up of all different characters, hardcore former high schoolplayers, to recreational players, to….me. Nooooo experience. But as I went to practice regularly, and played out in right field…..aaaaagain, I would think back to my Jr. High days and what Willie had always tried to pass on to me. I sucked in the beginning, but was determined to be good. But things changed. They didn’t want me in right field anymore. They wanted a pitcher. A left-handed pitcher. So, I was thrust into a position I REALLY didn’t want. But I wasn’t in Jr. High anymore, and I wasn’t as introverted as before either. I took my new responsibility  as a challenge to make a big difference in a game. I was becoming somewhat obsessed with the position.

You see, as a left-handed pitcher, you can put a different spin on the ball that right-handers can have trouble with. And I admit, for a time while I played with them, it worked, at least on the average player. The really skilled guys could still slam it out into center. But there again, not only pitching, but my defense as a pitcher was starting to develop also. Went 3 innings in a game once where I made all the stops for outs. Coming into the dugout after one of those innings, a team mate ran up next to me saying jokingly, you don’t need us. This team would enter some tournaments and our first win came at one at Calwa Park. Here is our game ball for then  Thank You Willie!

This work team sprouted wings and the best of the best of us joined forces with some other hardcore players from Selma. Selma, the hotbed of softball playing, at least back then. If you were playing in Selma, you were saying something. The fans were electric. We made up our own “Allstar” team and entered tournaments down there. I remember, with great sadness, one player we had who was destined for the big leagues. His name was Ronnie Ott. No not Lott. Ott. He was a high schooler who had already been picked by the, I think it was the Baltimore Orioles, and was our 3rd baseman. Tragically, Ronnie was killed in a car crash coming back from the lake with friends. Sad.

Just pitch meat I was told. You have the defense behind you to stop them. I did. And they did. So cool. We didn’t win the overall but came close. Another tournament we entered, we lost in the Championship game, and alot of it was because of  a play I messed up. That was hard. Even after the loss, the guys voted me MVP of the tournament despite it all. I didn’t want to accept it, but they said they couldn’t have gotten that far without me. Still don’t believe that but that was their character.

Again, a far cry from what I was back in school. I still wanted to be better. I was doing double duty for awhile as I was asked to play on my brother Rory’s team. They were perennial bottom feeders but wanted to get serious and be a contender this year. It was so much fun! They gave us a new name, calling us “Wild Things”. Here is my old playing shirt We ended up a close 3rd as I recall and I had to admit, I had some good games at pitcher. Here is our first win ball. The picture on the right says 1st Win May 2nd, 1989. Score 11-0. Woohoo! The 1st picture shows some of the autographs by team members. All had signed it.

Thank You Willie!

I played for only about 6-7 years back then before hanging it up for various reasons. But I did get another shot about 10 years later when my stepson Chris, who played baseball at Clovis High, was on a softball team and they needed some players for a particular game. He asked me to play. My eyes were as bright as they could be! I was excited but a bit worried as I wasn’t in the same shape as before, and hadn’t played in like 10 years. I accepted and couldn’t wait to play.

I started at pitcher. Ahhh home. But something was different. I was having trouble hitting the plate. Where was my back spin? Why did I feel so tight? I can shake this off. Not. After a couple of hapless innings, I was replaced. I was put out in right field. The ball was hit. I ran up on it sure that I was catching the thing and regain some much needed confidence. The ball sailed over my head. Not just once. It happened a couple of times. My head hung low after the game as we lost by a good margin that day. Disappointed in myself. Felt I let Chris down. Felt I let the team down. Chris was very forgiving.

The positive? That game was played against  Orient Express, an old nemesis of my work team from 10 years earlier. I went and shook their hands afterward telling them the nostalgia feel I had about it all.  I guess you could say it has come full circle. But I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.Well, except for maybe that last part. And Willie? Whatever he ended up doing in life, I’m sure he is a success at it. Thank You Willie!