Moments in Time: Helena, MT

This week’s “moment in time” takes us to Helena, Montana. The state capital of Montana, Helena, became known as the “Queen City of the Rockies” due to the boom of the 1864 gold strike.

That said, baseball brings us to the beautiful city of Helena today—specifically, June 1996. We find ourselves at Kendrick Legion Field, home of the Milwaukee Brewers Rookie Ball Team at that time.  

I was a skinny 18-year-old boy playing for the Great Falls Dodgers, the Rookie Ball Team for the Los Angeles Dodgers. It was the opening night of the Pioneer League, and we had a road series against the Helena Brewers.

Great Falls, Montana, is about 90 miles from Helena, and it is a beautiful drive. I vividly remember sitting in the team bus, not keeping my eyes off the beautiful landscapes: the majestic Northern Rockies, the power of the Missouri River, and the famous “Big Sky.” The wondrous sky of the Upper Northwest in the United States is such beauty.

Back to the game. As I said, it was opening night for the Brewers and the Pioneer League, which meant a few thousand people were coming to watch. Which, for a young, impressionable 18-year-old, made my nerves come to life.  

The weather was damp and chilly, with a bit of rain, but that didn’t impede the views from the dugout. A chapel sat behind the left field wall, and two mountain peaks were visible in the right-center and left-center fields. It was one of the most beautiful stadiums to play in.

The moment at hand came in the bottom of the first inning. The Brewers had a few hits and a walk and loaded the bases.  The crowd was loud. I was playing third base and could feel the noise through my chest.

As I said, it was raining a bit, making the grass slick. The grass was thick around the infield, which meant the cut from the infield dirt to the infield grass was a bit higher than usual. This certainly didn’t help what happened next.

I remember it clearly. The ball was softly hit towards me, which caused me to charge it to get someone out. I thought of fielding it and at least getting the runner out at first because my momentum was going that way.  Fielding the ball and setting my feet to make the throw, my front foot hit the lip of the thick grass as I let the ball go.

The next thing I know, I am doing a Superman face plant, sliding across the slick infield, stopping right at the backside of the pitcher’s mound. Looking up, wondering what the hell just happened, I see the ball landing eight rows up in the stands, and the runners seemed like they had gone twice around the bases like a carousel.  

I remember looking at my manager, Micky Hatcher, as he tried to conceal his laughter by pulling his hat down over his face. I could hear the crowd erupting, and I only wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere.

It was humiliating and embarrassing. It was a feeling of being wholly exposed at that moment—the whole “Mr. Tough Young Professional Athlete” thing was kind of out the window. At this moment, truth reigned. I was just a kid who tripped and slid across the infield in front of thousands of fans.

What a wonderful moment to think about—the illusions of self-being punctured by reality. It can be unpleasant at the time, but it is necessary for a more joyful life. Learning to be vulnerable and laugh at our shortcomings can only bring great joy.

It reminds me of a story that my pastor often tells of a priest friend of his. After years of not accepting his problem with alcohol, his friend entered AA. There was something to be read during the first meeting, and a gentleman in the group volunteered to read. As he began to read, he came across a word he couldn’t pronounce or understand, so he raised his hand and enthusiastically yelled, “Big Word…Big Word.” At the sight of this, his friend began to cry. He finally got it; at last, he visibly saw that it was his lack of wanting to be vulnerable and honest with himself that caused his drinking problem to persist more than it had to.

I often laugh about this story in Helena, MT, because it is a beautiful lesson of realness. I learned to accept my shortcomings and embrace my vulnerability over time, especially learning to laugh at myself.

As Brene Brown says, “Perfectionism is a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgment, and blame.” 

The Big Sky Country is so magnificent. If you do ever get a chance to visit, please do. And while you are there, watch your step and pay attention to how they cut the grass.  

Until next time, continued blessings to you on the journey…

About the Series:

This series of writing will focus on a particular moment and place in time.  For example, it will take us from a bench in Switzerland to a baseball field in Montana or a street corner in France.  Each place invites us into the moment’s emotions, lessons learned, and another journey for the soul.