Batting practice is one of baseball’s strongest allures. The name itself has a pleasant association: as almost everyone who has played or plays baseball likes to hit, what could be better than practicing it? The rhythmic pock pock of bat on ball–from both the cage and coaches hitting fungoes–creates a soothing sort of music, especially as it echoes around a mostly empty stadium. The prevailing mood is of relaxed concentration. Pitchers stand in groups in the outfield, and infielders toss their mitts at line drives sailing over their heads. To my mind, there is almost no point in going to a baseball game if one can’t get there in time for batting practice; it initiates the steps that lead to immersion in the sport. Hockey has a similar pregame ritual but basketball and football do not–unless one counts basketball’s early afternoon shootaround, which takes place long before a game and sometimes in a different location. There’s something too regimented about football warm-ups, which after all are called drills and rouse military associations. Besides, football is best seen on television, where its intricate patterns and line play are revealed through replays. The pregame drills aren’t enough to make attending the games worthwhile.
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Platteville was a three- or four-hour drive and required a commitment of days. Avid Bears fans swore by the trip–it bordered on an annual summer hajj for some–but as a committed baseball fan I never found time to make it. But with the Cubs and White Sox offering only frustration, I dropped off my daughter at her day camp in Wrigleyville a couple of weeks ago and traveled down to Bourbonnais in just over an hour. Traffic was breezy under a high blue sky, and I hopped off I-57 at the route 50 exit, navigated the nuisance stop signs the locals have newly installed, and followed the arrows to the parking lot. Led onward by the sound of whistles, I was at the practice fields within minutes, joining thousands of other fans.
The Bears’ practice session offered subtle pleasures. Early arriving fans claimed the best spots, which were on a slight rise at the far end of the three parallel fields. (Access to that end was blocked during practice to allow the players a corridor for entry and exit.) I joined the fans on the parking-lot end of the fields–which were a well-watered green compared to the worn and dehydrated brown grass on our side of the ropes. The Bears practiced on the middle field. Watching the players at ground level and at relatively close proximity made their amazing size and speed even more impressive. Cornerback R.W. McQuarters, his distinctive braids flapping out behind his helmet, raced from one side of the field to the other to push a ball carrier out of bounds. James “Big Cat” Williams prowled the sideline. Most identifiable was middle linebacker Brian Urlacher, who trotted onto the field carrying his helmet–the bristles on his shaved head bleached by the sun. A huge left tackle, number 75, made an immediate impression as he lined up, and I knew in an instant it must be Marc Colombo, the team’s top draft pick out of Boston College. Quarterbacks Jim Miller, with his familiar hunched shoulders, and newly acquired veteran Chris Chandler shuttled in and out with the first and second teams against the first- and second-string defensive squads. They practiced running plays and passes in the flat in midfield, then moved into the red zone at my end of the field and practiced spiking the ball to stop the clock. Then someone raced on and kicked a field goal, the ball soaring through the goal posts and over our heads.
“Well, it’s free,” the cashier responded.
