If you follow me on RedState, if you read my articles, you know that my dad was a US Marine. He was a freshman at the University of Washington when Pearl Harbor was attacked. Many — if not all of — the men in his fraternity joined at one time or another and served during the war. A lot of them were athletes and good ones, too.
There were varsity athletes like Ted Gerhart. Ted was nothing short of a rowing legend at the University of Washington. During the preceding years before the war, the Huskies were dominant in rowing. Ted was a big part of that. In the three years he was at Washington, Ted never lost a varsity eight-man race. Never. It remained an unequaled feat for years. He sat in the stroke seat, which is closest to the stern. With Ted sitting in "stroke," U of W won the IRA national titles in 1941 and '42. In short, Ted was a stud, and according to my dad, a prince of a man. Gerhart was a Marine Captain and commanded a Sherman Tank Company.
My dad played baseball. That was his sport. During high school, he played right field, and every year his batting average was over .300. He was very proud of the only home run he hit in high school. I have that ball sitting on my desk.
During the war, when he wasn’t charging up beaches or fighting in the jungles of Pacific islands, he was playing baseball with fellow Marines, often against Navy guys. My dad’s coach was a Montana guy and pro football player named Paul (Socko) Szakash. He was a Marine Corps lieutenant. My dad and Socko were about the same height, but Socko outweighed my dad by about 50 pounds.
My dad played against and with lots of professional baseball players during the war years. One story was about a hard-hit ball that my dad thought was going to be his second home run.
My dad’s Marine team played the Navy teams quite often. In one game, he was facing an MLB player named Bob Klinger. Klinger was a right-handed pitcher who had played for the Pittsburgh Pirates before the war. He threw a fastball that my dad smashed to right field. My dad was certain that it was going for extra bases, maybe a homerun, but the right fielder made a great catch. As my pops was rounding second and headed back to the bench, Klinger smiled at my dad and said:
“You thought you got me, didn’t ya, kid?”
My dad told that story to my sons at Christmas when they were all quite young. They listened like they were listening to Santa. I listened, enraptured by how the boys were listening to their "papa." For me, it was magical.
When the war ended, my dad played right field for the University of Gonzaga and was one of a few players who batted over .300.
I "know" that had he wanted to play pro ball, he could have played in the “show.” But life got in the way.
SEE ALSO: Play Ball
Never Abandon Your Field of Dreams
My dad loved baseball, and he loved his Seattle Mariners. As he aged, passing 100 years on the planet in 2023, he remained committed to his Mariners. Even at 100, he knew every player’s stats. He knew what they “should do” and what they were doing wrong – and each year, the Mariners disappointed my dad. Each year, they missed the playoffs. But we always had the Mariners to talk about. We’d talk for long stretches on the phone about a particular game or a particular player. The Mariners, I think, kept him going after my mom died. We always had baseball. Mariners baseball.
But at the age of 102, my dad lost interest in what the Mariners were doing. That's when I knew the end was near. With my mom gone and baseball no longer of interest, his time was short. I knew that. He died in March 2025. He didn't see the Mariners winning their division and beating the hated Astros. The Mariners made the playoffs and won a playoff game on Sunday night — for the first time in a quarter century.
One of my sons is a baseball fan and also a Mariners fan, largely because of my dad. We were texting during Sunday’s game about the game, but we also texted about my dad. My pops would have loved to have seen his Mariners in the playoffs.
I felt my dad’s presence when the Mariners were tied in the 8th inning. My dad would have been telling the batters he saw on his TV that they only need hits — “don’t try to hit a homer, get on base, for god's sake!” The Mariners won, 3-2.
I hope that heaven is like Field of Dreams. My version of heaven has players like Lou Gehrig asking my dad if he wants to play right field. Maybe Bob Klinger will be pitching a game and staring my dad down. "You won't get me this time, kid."
For all its faults, MLB, and baseball in general, remind me of my dad.
I hope my dad has a front row seat for these playoffs. I'm a Dodgers fan, but I'll be watching the Mariners and thinking of my dad, hoping they win it all — for my dad.
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