Like most Orioles fans that grew up in
the 1990's, I was a giant Cal Ripken Jr. fan. I was such a big fan
that I thought I would be the next Cal Ripken and had to play shortstop my first year of little league. And not only did I have to play
shortstop but I had to have number 8 as my jersey number. As my
first season was starting my dad went to a Sloper's (anyone remember
Sloper's?) one day to get me batting gloves or something else small. I
can't remember what exactly it was. But when he came home he told me
he saw something in the Sloper's, something awesome. He told me about a
Cal Ripken hat. I didn't understand. First, what was a Cal Ripken hat?
And second, why didn't he bring the hat home with him?
He would explain that the hat had
RIPKEN on it, with a number 8 in the middle and some sort of replica
of his autograph sown into the hat. I was beyond excited about it. I
was adamant that I must have it. My dad wasn't just gonna get it for
me cause I wanted it, so he made me a deal. If I got a home run
during the season he would get me the hat.
Now I wasn't a guy with much power, especially when I was a little kid. I was a string bean. So getting a home run--in my first year of little league no less--was not
something that I was sure I could accomplish. But I was motivated to get
that Ripken hat. I had dreams of smacking a ball over the fence and
getting the hat.
As the season was about midway through
it didn't look like I was gonna get a home run. I was swinging and
missing a lot. I couldn't find a bat that worked for me. They were
either too long or too heavy. I was a string bean, remember. One day
my dad came home from work with a new bat for me. This bat was as long
as most of the bats I had been trying to use, but lighter. At
practice I was crushing the ball with this new bat. All the sudden I
could get to the ball with the lighter bat.
I started to make better contact in
games. I remember smashing a ball one game, but foul by a mile. I was
not happy. I thought I was gonna get my hat with that one off the bat. A few games
later I crushed a ball into left field corner. It was off the wall for a sure
double. As I got to second I was slowing down, but as happens in
little league there was trouble getting the ball in the outfield. My
coach was waving me on. So I picked my speed back up and ran for
third. He wasn't stopping there; he was sending me home! As I rounded
third I thought oh this might be it. This would count! My dad never
said it had to be a home run that left the field, just a home run. An
inside-the-park home run would count just the same. So I rounded
third on my way home. Sprinting with all the speed my little legs had
left, I touched home. I had done it! An inside the park home run! I
remember leaping from home plate to the fence behind the plate (which
had to be a few feet) where my parents were sitting. As I reached the fence I pointed at my dad and said, “You owe me a
hat,” as they were all cheering and yelling. I walked back to the
dugout, more excited about my soon to be hat than the home run.
-Matt Baggette @mlb930
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