By Brian Smiley
Expositor staff / BrantfordReposted from March 22/04

If I could have just one wish, I know what I'd wish for. It doesn�t involve being a millionaire, billionaire or gazillionaire. I have no desire to wage war on Bill Gates for the title of world�s richest person.

I don�t need to own a fleet of Hummers, Escalades or Ferraris; to have a ginoromous house with enough bathrooms for all of Burford; or possess any of that Hollywood bling-bling. Jay-Z is safe there.

And I wouldn�t want to change a single thing about my family or friends. They�re all the best.

So that doesn�t leave much. Just something very tiny that I think about from time to time.

Anytime people ask me about how I make a living, they always get the same answer � I have the best job in the world. But that isn�t the absolute truth. In fact, I have the best job in the world of mere mortals.

And that's where my wish comes in. What tops writing about sports and getting paid for it? Only one thing � being a baseball player. I fell in love with baseball at a young age. As soon as the sun came up, when there was no school, that meant two things for me and my friends in Brantford�s north end when we were kids � road or pond hockey in the winter and baseball in the summer.

I lived on Palomino Drive and behind one set of houses was a big open field. During the summer, a neighbourhood dad would use his lawnmower to cut us a diamond in that field. Bases would be made from whatever we could find � usually some piece of heavy garbage like a pop can dumped in the grass by older kids � and foul lines would be staked with sticks.

As we got older, those games became infrequent so I relied more on organized baseball to satisfy my love affair with the game. While I still enjoyed playing the game, once I became a teenager, and realized I wasn�t going to the major leagues, my interest in playing the game waned.

Entering adulthood, I played some slo-pitch but it didn�t take me long to realize two things. No. 1, the abuse I had heaped on my arm made it nearly impossible to throw without watering my face, and some of the field, with tears. And No. 2, slo-pitch wasn�t the same game as baseball.

So, for the past three summers I�ve replaced a baseball bat with a golf club.

Where, you ask, is all this going?

Well, I turned 29 in February and I don�t want to live the rest of my life with regrets I can control so I�m going to give baseball � and all those scouts who missed me the first time around � one last shot.

Starting this weekend, I�m beginning the long road to the majors by trying out for the Intercounty Baseball League�s Brantford Red Sox.

After being gripped by baseball fever last year � as were thousands of other local residents due to the fact the Red Sox made the league�s championship final, losing to the Guelph Royals � I�ve decided that before I turn 30, I should give the Red Sox the first chance to sign a future star. I know the Intercounty is a long way from the big time but, with the retirement of Jesse Orosco (who played in the Intercounty back in the 1970s) from the major leagues, the Intercounty needs another �feel good� story.

I�m it. Over the next several weeks, leading up to the team�s May 8 season-opener against the Hamilton Cardinals at Cockshutt Park, I'll be attending several workouts trying to claim a spot on the roster. Each Monday, I�ll have a column on the Red Sox. So, please join me, and enjoy me, as I try to make one of the premier baseball teams in the province while trying to retain my dignity.