Blair-ball

Blair Taffan Christopher is named after Blair Ian Mackenzie. The latter of the two was my best friend for many years as a child between the ages of ten and twenty years old. He was killed in a tragic car accident in 1991 and my life was altered forever. Blair Mackenzie was a genuine person who bullied no-one and tried to see the best in everyone. Moreover, he was an exceptionally talented athlete, particularly in baseball. I remember many a summer afternoon at the sidelines of his organized team watching him play. On one occasion when he was in left field a long, high, fly ball came his way. He ran towards it to make the catch but unexpectedly slowed as he approached the target. From my vantage point, there was nothing visible that might have caused this behaviour. Just then, while still running, he reached down and scooped up a small bird into his glove that had been flailing in the grass. He then proceeded to make the catch with his bare hand and throw it in for a double-play. He promptly called time-out and walked the bird over to the side. It had a broken wing and Blair admitted that when he spied it in the grass, he was worried he might run over it so he had thought it best just to scoop it up during the play. I never saw that bird again but I think it was taken to a veterinary hospital where I'm hoping it received due care. I reiterate, Blair Taffan Christopher is named after Blair Ian Mackenzie.

I don't know if it was just coincidence then when about a year ago, I took Milo and Blair out to the nearby park to play a little baseball, and Blair proved incredibly talented. They are both shut-ins and engage very little sporting activity. We had not touched a baseball since before they were too young for it to matter. I was amazed at the skill both of them demonstrated in catching, hitting, and fielding. They certainly didn't get that talent from me or their mother!

In time, Blair decided that he wanted to join an organized team, and after much funding ado I got him registered with the strangely named Gordon Head Evening Optimists. Some of the other kids had been playing for a year already but I was confident that Blair was talented enough to keep up. However, the competition proved fierce and Blair was swept up in a team that pitched fast, hit hard, and played serious. Blair was not the strongest player on the team and was regularly having difficulty hitting and fielding at this level. By the third or fourth game I had become concerned that Blair was beginning to be viewed as the weak link on his team. That would surely discourage him from continuing and he was genuinely talented. He was able to hit some pretty fast pitches when we practiced at home. Nevertheless, he seemed to have stage fright when playing for his team, and he had developed a habit of waiting to be walked or waiting to be struck out, hoping the limited talent of the pitcher would afford him the former. He had not hit one pitch all season.

Finally it happened. It was his first hit, not only of the season, but ever for Blair in an organized sport. It was his first hit ever. It was his first hit EVER! I was celebratory and triumphant and crowed like a cock in the stands at his achievement. He was thrown out before he reached first base but that was of small concern to me. He had hit the ball, and hit it well. I knew he could do it.

Several games later, he had fallen back into his habit of waiting to be walked, but he swung at a lot more strikes than he had previously. Some of the pitches were genuinely 'balls' and he was making good choices. It is difficult to hit Blair's strike zone - he's tiny. He is adorable to watch in school concerts. He is always the shortest and smallest in the row by a measurable margin. His baseball team was no different. He was easily the smallest kid on the team, and the other kids looked like monsters by comparison. Even for his size, Blair is diminutive. The kid's about 40lbs soaking wet and gets nervous in high winds. One pitch came whizzing in full speed, and Blair tried to duck out of the way of the erratically aimed throw. "WHACK!" Ooooooooh! That looked like it hurt! Right in the helmet. Good thing he had that thing on! He stumbled backwards, dazed, but he didn't lose his footing. He gave his head a little shake and regained his bearings before taking his base - well earned! And I got the whole thing on video so we can revisit the fiasco for years to come. If the other Blair was watching from some netherworld, I'm sure he is just as proud as I am! Atta boy, Blair. Give 'em hell!

See you in hell,
Shakes.