Mylan Park, Triple S Harley-Davidson host baseball event
Mylan Park, the Fourth of July.
On an afternoon all about American independence, it took a British invader to tell it right.
Manfred Mann, 1964.
His voice, and his song, pouring from the speakers at the mini-ball park.
“… Before I knew it, she was walkin’ next to me, singing,
‘Doo-whaa-diddy, diddy-dum, diddy-doo
Holdin’ my hand, just as natural as can be, singing,
‘Doo-whaa-diddy, diddy-dum, diddy-doo …”
Meanwhile, on Abner Doubleday’s diamond, under a sky of wading pool-blue, a group of young athletes were doing something as natural as can be, during this most unnatural of times.
They were playing baseball.
American Legion baseball, specifically.
Wheeling Post 1-versus-Morgantown Post 2.
It was all part of the “Celebration of America” event hosted by Mylan Park and Triple S Harley-Davidson, and staged in part by the Visit Mountaineer Country Convention and Visitors Bureau.
Fireworks were also on the bill at dusk, along with a screening of the feature film, “Doolittle” and a concert by the Davisson Brothers Band.
Susan Riddle, the convention and visitor bureau’s CEO, said she was heartened that so many local businesses lined up as sponsors for the free-admission event.
“We are so blessed,” she said.
However, on this day, those blessings still came under the curse of COVID-19.
Killer batting average
That’s why organizers still tossed out some corona-caveats.
Face masks and hand-sanitizer? Good idea.
Social-distancing and no more than 10 people gathering in groups during the proceedings? Even better.
Unlike Manfred Mann, COVID-19 was singing a grim dirge Saturday afternoon.
Monongalia County went into the day with 193 confirmed coronavirus cases.
Neighboring Preston and Marion counties had notched 68 and 63 positive diagnoses, respectively.
On this Fourth, there were more than 3,000 confirmed and probable cases chronicled across the Mountain State, health-watchers said.
That’s just in this line-up.
Across the U.S., many states that rushed to reopen are now retreating, like a batter stepping away from the plate, as cases are surging in Texas, California and Florida.
New cases are also being recorded in as many as 37 other states.
Twenty-four hours earlier, the country biologically went viral, with 52,104 cases recorded from sea to sea — to go with the 50,000-plus cases noted nationally two days before.
At Mylan Park on Saturday for the holiday, people weren’t wearing masks, but they were social-distancing, in aluminum bleacher seats that were quite the conductors of heat on the 90-degree day.
James Buseman was pushing the “normal” curve, taking his baseball-crazy kid, Spencer who is 12, out to the game.
With his work schedule, father-son time has always been golden, and it’s even more so now, he said.
“Life has changed. It’s forever changed, politically. This is a chance to be normal for a little while.”
With the first day of school looming Aug. 20 for the county, Spencer said he’d like to be able to reconnect with his friends at Mountaineer Middle.
“I miss ‘em,” he said.
Tony Thornton misses his ball-playing days, he said, with grin.
He’s a Morgantown Post 2 outfielder from way back, he said. Like the song says, he was coming to root, root, root for his home team — while switching every single circuit of his brain to baseball, in the process.
Every single one, he said.
“It’s a good day to take your mind off things and enjoy the national pastime,” he said.
Put me in, Coach …
If the coronavirus doesn’t call for a designated hitter, Dylan Gongola said he’s looking forward to the rest of summer, plus a spring season of his favorite sport, to come.
He plays third base for the Wheeling’s legion team, and was on the starting lineup for his team at Wheeling Park High School before COVID-19 benched everyone.
The kid who currently bats .300 is hoping for academic home runs, come fall.
“I hope he gets his senior year this fall,” said his mother Anita Gongola, as she watched from the stands.
“I want it for him and I want it for the team,” she said, nodding in the direction of the field.
“A lot of those kids have been together since Little League.”
Thornton, it could be said, got it right on this day.
It really was all about baseball.
There were whoops, smatterings of applause from the stands and dugout any time a fielder chased down a fly ball.
There was that whooshed-out, “Yes!” any time a wicked slider made a batter swing — then look twice, after it was all done.
And that collective, gasping “Oh!” each time a single, stretched into a double, and a double, amazingly, was willed into a triple, even if the manager did tell you to hold up.
Don’t forget the omnipresent “tuh-CLANK!” of an aluminum bat, sending a seamed sphere into the outer reaches.
All that, plus the signing-bonus beam of Mr. Gongola, he of third base.
He scooped one up with his glove, then sent a laser to first, beating a guy by a step.
Which, of course, meant he would ground out during his next at-bat, since baseball doesn’t give anything away for free.
“That’s all right, Dill,” a buddy called from the dugout, using his team nickname. “You’re good. We got all day.”
“I’m just glad we’re out here,” came his reply.
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