The baseball fields are perforated with openings we like to call "gopher holes" although I'm positive I've never actually seen a real gopher and am even more certain they are not native to Bend, Oregon. But that doesn't stop us for calling them that. The Bend baseball fields are notoriously poor and each time a player stumbles in the outfield or a grounder unexpectedly caroms off it's path at a new angle in the infield, we all shake our heads and collectively utter under our breath, "damn gopher holes".
The officiating at the games isn't much better. At some games the lone umpire, clad in cut-offs and an untucked Midas brakes T-shirt, will stand behind the pitcher bent over slightly at the waist and squinting at the plate for want of a chest protector and and face mask which would allow him the more traditional perspective to call balls and strikes. The local kid does his best to be fair but in honesty we in the lawn chairs behind the backstop have a better view.
The distances between tournament games can be inconvenient too, sometimes 30 miles from where we are lodging, and the weather can be darn right cold there in May at Bend's 3,000 foot level, but still we come each year -- and look forward to it.
Because it really isn't about the playing fields or how well the event is organized or the weather. It isn't even really about baseball.
And so it was with this background that we loaded up the car full of luggage and the dog and headed in the opposite direction from Bend, to watch Brandon play in his first basketball tournament away from home. Our destination, the "famous" Seaside basketball tournament.
Now I'm not saying that we don't go to these things to watch the games. We most certainly do. But we can do that at home. Tournaments are more of a celebration. A time to mark this brief time in our lives with something a little more special.
Most obviously it about making the kids important. Brandon is involved in things other than sports. For instance he studies playing the trumpet and performs in several concerts each year including being in a marching band during parades in our small town. But 7th grade basketball is a very intimate sport, the kids play just five at a time and the fans sit just inches away from the action. A great deal has occurred to put all of this together and now he is the star of the show.
But this is also a time for our family to be together; the coziness of the car (the dog goes with and lays between the boys with her black nose an inch from the console between Lynda and I), and we share two beds in a single room. One bathroom and a tight schedule forces a great deal of cooperation and respect. We talk about our meals and where we want to eat. "Camp 18" and "Doogers" are high on the list. We decide what we'll do doing our brief down time and settle on keeping it simple by walking down Broadway to the beach, window shopping and letting the boys play at the arcade. It's what everybody does when they go to Seaside and only have an hour or two. We are not alone during our jaunt, we run into the families of the other boys on the team everywhere we go.
This is certainly a group event and that's what makes it so much fun. More than a week before someone had organized a cell phone list so that we could call any of the other nine families. Lunch was planned together at the Bigfoot's Pub & Grub, as soon as everyone got to town. The party room, decorated like a log cabin, was deafening with conversation as we squeezed everyone in. Between games we collected money for pizza and had a party in the breakfast room of hotel we all stayed at--much to the chagrin of the lone front desk clerk. We exchanged intel with each other on such things as coffee shop locations, game time scenarios ("if we win both games, we play tomorrow at 2 pm but....") and how to find the high school. But mostly we just spent as much time together as a weekend will allow. Good people and good kids. Hard to beat.
And some place in there on Saturday morning I was able to get in a 5 mile run along the Seaside boardwalk and the Necanicum River. (see picture above) It was a great run, the best I have had in a long time. I felt fast as I was dodging folks walking along the boardwalk, which by the way is not made of boards.
The weekend ended too soon and we had to all head back much before I would have liked. But the Bend baseball tournament is only 3 months away and we are sure to go. It should be a good time. Gopher holes or not.
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