Running for my Life
Getting in shape for the upcoming season, and an ode to the box score in comic form
In an attempt to get fitter for this year’s baseball season, I’ve recently taken up running again. With vaccines rolling out and a plan for easing lockdowns in place, I’m hopeful that it’ll be safe enough for a good few Sunday games when the summer rolls around. In last year’s short season, sandwiched between the peaks of the Covid infection rates, I batted acceptably and although my fielding improved, I could feel my body resisting any attempt to move fast, to hustle, or to throw the ball with power. True to every cliché about early parenthood, I let myself go when I became a father, and then less than a year later, the pandemic hit us and forced me to stay at home, slashing my amount of daily walking from 5-10 miles daily to basically zero. In a way, it’s amazing that I was able to even swing a bat when I returned to playing sports again, let alone that I was able to hit a hard ground ball up the middle and get to first.
Fast forward to now, and I’m running three times a week, managing 5k at a time without stopping. Anyone reading this who runs seriously might not think that’s special, but I’m grateful to my body for quickly falling back into the routine of running and allowing me to do this more quickly than I expected it to. I had to push through the first couple of runs, but after that, I actually started to enjoy it. That is, until I started seeing other runners more regularly.
It’s obviously not true, but the brain of someone who has spent a lifetime struggling with their weight will always look at other runners and feel that they’re being judged by them as they pass by. In reality, nobody gives even half as much thought to you as you do yourself. I always remember this when a skinny dude in shorts passes me, not wearing headphones or carrying water, his lycra-clad form seeming to move with the speed of Sonic the Hedgehog in comparison to my lumbering jog. I can’t run without music, and although I meditate and am comfortable with long periods of silence and nothing, I find it a lot easier to push through the self-inflicted pain of running if it’s soundtracked by a playlist of my favourite power metal jams. I see other runners pass me without headphones on and I wonder if they see me as impure, immature, an interloper, an amateur.
If it wasn’t for baseball, I might have been overwhelmed by these feelings of inferiority and not have taken up running again, but baseball has given me the knowledge that I can do physical activity. I might not be as fast as Rickey Henderson, who holds the record for the most bases stolen in a season at 132 (in the 1982 season), but I always remember that there was room in the game for both Rickey and Adrián Beltré, who is the holder of possibly my favourite statistic in all of baseball: he stole exactly one base in each of his eight last seasons in Major League Baseball. There are the lighting-fast Byron Buxtons of the game, who can sprint round the bases about as fast as a roadrunner cartoon, but Edgar Martínez is in the hall of fame for his career as a designated hitter despite being called the slowest player in baseball in the latter half of his career.
I’m not saying I can hit half as well as Edgar Martínez or play third base like Adrián Beltré, but these are dudes who give me hope. I’ve written before about how baseball has more than its fair share of big guys in the game, and how seeing overweight men like Bartolo Colón and Prince Fielder not only play the game but play it really well were a revelation to me. It’s important on the superficial level to acknowledge that all bodies are different, and that a certain size or shape doesn’t preclude you from things like playing sports or keeping fit. But while I’ve been running, I’ve been thinking more deeply about the big guys in the game, and the slow runners who aren’t going to beat the throw to first a lot of the time. It’s them I think of when I’m jogging round the roads near my house, hoping to shave a couple of seconds off the time it takes me to run a mile.
I’ve also been thinking about weight in relation to Vladimir Guerrero Jr, the former number one prospect in baseball whose debut with the Blue Jays has been a little disappointing, but only in the context of the massive hype he received when he was working his way up the minor league ladder. He’s a larger guy, taking after his Hall of Famer father, and his weight has been subject to a lot of fan commentary since before he even made his MLB debut as a third baseman. People said that he was too big for third base, predicting that he would move to first base within a few years. And as much as I hate to admit, there was some legitimacy to those views, which was proven by his move to first for the 2020 season, which was a lot sooner than anyone predicted, but totally warranted given that the UZR (Ultimate Zone Rating) statistic definitely proved he was the worst defensive third baseman in MLB in 2019.
He played decently at first in 2020, but he clearly didn’t see it as a permanent move, and the club sees him as being able to transition back to third too. The idea that he will get this chance gives me hope, and is one of the storylines I’ll be rooting for the most when watching the 2021 MLB season, whatever form it will take. Vladdy has slimmed down a hell of a lot, and has ‘Blue Jays 3B’ in his Instagram bio. He’s clearly putting in the work, hustling hard, and going after something in which he might have the odds stacked against him. A lot of players would be happy to just be a first baseman/designated hitter and to be a bat-first player, but Vladdy clearly isn’t. He’s only 22 years old, and still has so much to prove, but he knows he has to work for it and he has to improve, and this is a lesson we can all learn.
Vlad Jr’s name is on the back of the Blue Jays jersey I wear when I run, and the superstitious part of my brain that’s the same as the one ballplayers all clearly have tells me that this might have been a reason I was able to get back into running more easily than I thought I would. Vlad’s energy is infectious, and we could all use a little bit of it.
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It feels good to be back writing regularly again! In addition to the usual essays and illustrations, we’re also aiming to do more comics this season, and Sam has put together a great one to get us started: An Ode to a Box Score.
We’ll once again be back in our virtual diner/radio booth next Saturday 3rd April to celebrate opening weekend as the Blue Jays take on the Yankees! You can listen in here for our commentary, which will be like a radio broadcast with every play called, as the Jays are only having a simulcast of the TV feed this year, so we thought we’d go old school and give some radio vibes. Thanks to everyone who tuned in to our last couple of broadcasts - it’s been a lot of fun! You can check out our next broadcast here on Saturday 3rd from 6pm BST.
As always, you can buy a copy of our first collection from 2019, Stealing Home: Rookie Season. Hopefully we’ll get to a second collection this year, if we write enough posts.
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Words by Paddy Johnston. Illustrations and comic by Sam Williams.