Undeniable attraction
by Matt Worley

I've been a Kansas City Royals fan for longer than I can remember. Being a Royals fan is a lot like reading in that way. I don't remember not reading, just being told occasionally I wasn't supposed to read certain things. I think I was three when I first remember seeing the Royals play live. We were living in Salina, KS, but one of my Dad's brothers was visiting, and we all met up in Kansas City. A day at Worlds Of Fun (theme park like Six Flags) bled into a night at the ballpark. I don't know if the Royals won (I always assume they lost, even though 1975 wasn't a particularly bad year for the Royals), but I remember being part of the larger mass of fans. Somehow even from way up in the cheap seats (we never sat any lower than the third--top--level) we were still part of the crowd, still cheering on the team.

I didn't even know how to play baseball back then. I knew there were bats and balls and gloves. I knew the pitcher was supposed to try and strike people out (anytime a ball was hit by the bat of the opposing team--even foul balls--I thought it was a mishap of some kind). I knew what a home run was. At three years old, I still thought there was a chance for me to be a major leaguer. Of course there were about fifty other things I thought I could be when I grew up (although, thanks to my parents' cynicism, I never wanted or thought I should be President), but being a baseball player who eventually got to play on the Royals was near the top.

Being a major leaguer takes talent and hard work. When I began to remember the names of Royals players, I began to pick favorites. Willie Wilson--because he had the coolest name--was my all-time favorite player for a while. He stole bases (I was a good sprinter when I was a young grade schooler), caught fly balls and sometimes hit inside-the-park home runs. I knew I'd never be a big burly home run hitter, and Willie Wilson's streamlined body seemed plausible in my mind.

By the time we were living in Lawrence, KS, the Royals were pre-eminent on my mind. Sure, there was an urge to watch all of the monster movies at four in the afternoon, but our TV was guarded. If we were good and did all our chores, we could watch the Planet Of The Apes Week or Godzilla Week on Channel 41. Obviously the long baseball season took precedence over such short time in front of the TV. Our family would work or play around a radio broadcasting Royals games every summer afternoon or night.

Our oldest uncle on my mom's side brought his family to visit at least once a year--always during the summer. They lived in Minnesota and were Twins fans. Uncle George thought we should be more athletic, so he took us to play catch in the schoolyard across the street. We started with simple throws back and forth. I was priming up my George Brett Signature Glove, waiting for those throws and daydreaming about what it would be like when I was playing outfield for the Royals. I'd make those heart-stopping catches in shallow centerfield. I'd be able to jump halfway up the fence and rob those dad blammet Yankees of a game winning homer. When you have two other brothers and three cousins waiting for fake pop ups from your uncle, there's a lot of time to think. I didn't even know it was my turn when the baseball came crashing down onto my forehead.

My sights changed to pitcher after this. I could whip a tennis ball pretty accurately into my older brother's glove when I was seven. I even figured out different ways to hold a ball. There was the regular, the split finger and then twisted split finger--my four fingers were crossed and split into a V. I had big hands for my overall body size, so I could handle the balls pretty well. I could even strike my brothers out from time to time because of my pitching rather than the fact that none of us could hit.

We moved away from Kansas City (our next home after Lawrence) in 1982. By that time I'd realized there was no way I could be a major leaguer. I was too hung up on E.T. and Star Wars to properly focus my vision on becoming a baseball player. The Royals, however, have remained a summer tradition. In the last two weeks, the Royals have won zero of eleven games. Because six of the games were against Chicago teams, I saw half of these losses on TV. It was the first sustained blast of Royals baseball this season, and it was disappointing. But I was able to understand the dynamic of this year's team--and some of the interesting names behind it. Johnny Damon, Tom Goodwin, Jeff King, Hipolito Pichardo, Jose Rosado, Bip Roberts, Chili Davis.

I'm still a Royals fan after all these years and all the recent losses for one reason--it's my baseball identity. And if there has been a true love (no matter how difficult it's been lately) in my life, the Kansas City Royals are it.

Matt Worley apologizes for his unconditional love of the game, but feels that everyone should look deep into baseball and realize it is a metaphor for life. And life is what we're here for, right?

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