So, that Jimmy Morris baseball story, huh? The fella who became a major league pitcher way older than anyone thought possible. It’s one of those tales that kinda sticks with you.
I remember watching that movie, “The Rookie”, years back. Dennis Quaid playing him. Good movie. It wasn’t just the baseball part that got me, though. It was the whole idea of getting a second shot, way after you figured that door was closed and locked for good.
My Own Little Comeback Attempt
Thinking about Morris got me remembering something from my own life. Nothing as grand as professional baseball, mind you. Not even close. It was about woodworking, of all things.
See, I used to dabble. Had a little corner in the garage, couple of saws, a drill. Built some truly awful shelves back in the day, maybe a stool that rocked more than it stood. I enjoyed messing around, making sawdust. But then, you know, life happened. Job got demanding, kids arrived, the whole nine yards. The tools just sat there, collecting dust bunnies bigger than my fist. Gave it up completely.
Fast forward maybe ten, fifteen years. Saw that movie again on TV one rainy Saturday. Then later, I’m in the garage looking for something, and I see that dusty old workbench. The tools were still there, rusty in spots. And I felt this little spark. Maybe… maybe I could try again? Like that Morris fella, right? Except my tryout was just me, in my garage, against a piece of pine.
So, I dragged the stuff out. Cleaned it up best I could. Plugged in the old sander. Man, it was rough. Seriously rough. My hands felt clumsy. I’d forgotten how to measure properly, how things fit together. Made stupid mistakes. Cut wood too short. Drilled holes in the wrong place. I remember getting so frustrated I nearly threw a hammer across the garage. Felt like an old fool playing pretend.
- Dusting off old tools
- Feeling clumsy and forgetting basics
- Getting super frustrated
- Almost quitting (again)
I was this close to packing it all up again, telling myself I was too old, too out of practice, what’s the point? But then that image of Jimmy Morris popped into my head. This high school teacher, throwing heat, standing on that mound after everyone, including probably himself sometimes, thought his time was long gone. He made a promise, showed up, faced the odds.
So, I figured, okay, maybe I don’t need to build a masterpiece. Let’s just make something. Something simple. How about a birdhouse? Can’t be that hard, right?
Well, it was harder than I remembered. Took me ages. Lots of cursing under my breath. Sanded my thumb raw at one point. But I stuck with it. Measured twice (sometimes three times), cut slowly. And finally, after what felt like forever, I had this… thing. A birdhouse. It wasn’t perfect. A little crooked if you looked close. But it was finished. Made of wood. By me.
Hung it on the old oak tree in the backyard. Felt pretty darn good, I gotta say. Not exactly striking out major league batters, you know? But it was that feeling. That feeling of pushing back against the idea that it’s ‘too late’. You can still do things.
So yeah, when I think about Jimmy Morris baseball, that’s kinda what comes to mind. It’s cool he made the majors, sure. But it’s more about not letting the past completely dictate the future. About picking up the tools, whatever your tools are, even if they’re dusty. Still got that birdhouse out there. Birds seem to like it okay. Probably needs a new coat of paint, though.
