THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, April 3, 1995 TAG: 9504030129
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY DAVE ADDIS, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: HAMPTON LENGTH: Long : 103 lines
The brand of baseball that's played in corporate boardrooms and federal courthouses may have been postponed Sunday, but opening day went on as scheduled in a league where the game is ruled by love, not lawyers.
Thirteen guys representing Rosie Rumpe's Royal Dumpe - a Virginia Beach supper club - took the field at 2:40 p.m. at venerable War Memorial Stadium as the only over-40 squad competing regionally in the National Adult Baseball Association.
In this league, the emphasis is on the word adult. There are no petulant teenage millionaires on the field, no arrogant Milwaukee car dealers in the owner's box.
In an admirable vice-versa from what goes in major league ball, these guys pay for the privilege of being on the field, of hitting a baseball - not that fat, overripe melon that softball players flail at, but an honest-to-Mr.-Spalding horsehide baseball, regulation size, the kind of ball that can tear into your rib cage if you're too slow in the box, the kind of ball that cracks off an ashen baseball bat with a sound that will jump-start the heart of anyone who's ever played hardball as if it was the only thing that would ever matter in his life.
The guys from Rosie's may have had a little tummy hanging over the belt and a good bit of Swiss cheese in their arms, but the little kid came out in every one of them when they crossed the chalk lines. A real umpire pulled the mask down over his face, squared it away, pointed at the pitcher and said something that baseball fans have been waiting to hear since last August.
Play ball.
On the mound for Rosie's was Lt. Col. Bill Sawyer, U.S. Army (retired), a 47-year-old rookie who hadn't thrown a baseball in anger in something like 25 years. But he could teach just about anybody in the National League a thing or two about conditioning. Lean as a whip and looking at least two decades younger than his birth certificate, he had a freakish curveball, a respectable sandlot fastball, and a looping changeup that put more than one opposing batter on his knees.
Sawyer, and the guys in the dugout like him, love the game of baseball and hate what it has become on the professional level. Like everybody who appraises the major league strike, they know there's plenty of blame to go around, but they're especially critical of the players. Maybe it's a bit of envy, seeing guys who made the big leagues, and made the millions, walk away from the game over salaries.
``I'm a fanatic for this game,'' Sawyer said between warmup pitches. ``But I've gotta tell you, the longer this goes, I've gotten away from it. They're gonna have to earn my interest back.
``That's a whole lot of money to be on strike for.''
George Hasenstab, the big, husky first baseman who runs Rosie's and backs the team with some cash, had some unprintable views about the majors, and some that can be repeated. ``I'm disappointed,'' he said. ``Look, I understand the principles, and the business, but these guys make a hell of a lot of money. Let's put it this way: I wish I had the opportunity to strike for that kind of money.''
Instead, Hasenstab, at age almost-42, trotted out to play his first game of hardball in 24 years. He'd played some slow-pitch softball, but he'll tell you just how different it is: ``That first curveball I faced, man, that was an eye-opener. Or an eye-closer, depending on where you're standing.''
Several hundred Hampton Roads players have come home to hardball in the four years the NABA has been active here. The organization has 38 teams, broken into varying age and skill levels, and was holding tryouts for women this weekend.
But Rosie's is the only over-40 team. ``There are a bunch of guys over 40 sprinkled through the league,'' said Marcus Young, Rosie's player-manager, ``but we couldn't get enough for our own league.'' For 18 games this season, Young and his boys will be playing teams that average a decade younger. ``Jeez, please, sneak something into your story that says we need more guys,'' Young said, eyeing an awfully quick-looking Grey Sox team that was warming up across the field. ``We need bodies.''
Young's 47-year-old rookie pitcher shut down the Grey Sox for the first two innings, striking out two. They got him for a run in the third, two more in the fourth, but Sawyer swore that his aging arm, which was born when Harry Truman was in the White House, was getting stronger.
They really ate into him in the fifth inning, and Rosie's eventually went down, 14-2, though nobody seemed particularly discouraged. It was spring, maybe a little chilly, but the sun poked through and they were playing real ball in a real park that for decades had hosted real professional basebase clubs, farm teams for the Phillies, the White Sox, the Mariners. Whitey Ford pitched here. Gil Hodges hit home runs here.
Cal Borak, 44, said the major league strike had disgusted him, and he was getting his baseball fix from playing ``anywhere, any position'' for Rosie's. And he confessed that he'd still be a fan when the big boys take the field again. ``That's what I think about baseball, it's what the game means to me.''
Young slipped a Marlboro out of a pack, bummed a light, and nodded in assent. ``We play this game because it's real. It's the true game, that's all there is.
``And I'll never stop playing this game until I'm dead.'' MEMO: Players who would like to join Rosie's can call Marcus Young at
857-0374. Others who want to play can call Richard S. Spano, NABA East
Coast director, at 425-1651. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by David Sterling
Bill Sawyer, 47, pitches Sunday in Hampton...
by CNB