Some people just don't get it:
The smell of the dirt and fresh-cut grass.
The slow and easy embrace that twilight and night take from day, and then being under the lights.
The sights and sounds of every kind of people coming together with a hint of shared excitement and expectation.
Hot dogs, popcorn and frito pies.
Kids in bright orange T-shirts, hats and money aprons, racing to and fro trying to earn a quarter or maybe even a dollar for every trip to the concession stand they make for waiting customers in the stands.
Men in ties, men in overalls.
Big shots talking to little shots. Little shots doing big things.
Women talking sports.
Girls and guys trying to look their best.
The sound -- the oh-sweet sound-- of a wood bat.
The rollercoaster thrill ride of dangling between victory and defeat.
The grit.
The will.
The passion.
This is baseball.
***
Some people may not understand all this, but there are at least 8,000 every night these past few evenings who do.
Ricketts Park in Farmington will seat and hold in its standing areas around 8,000 folks, official types tell me, and those spaces are being filled at this year's version of the annual Connie Mack World Series.
The professional baseball scouts and college coaches are here watching, and there will be players from this field of games who within days will become millionaires when they sign to go pro.
Most of these young men playing, however, will be millionaires
The pro scouts, however, noticed one young man among them who isn't even on the roster of any of the teams making it to the world series.
His name is Justin Solomon.
***
Justin, which you'll know if you've been reading the paper, is in a big fight with a tough opponent called leukemia.
He is a local high school baseball player who can't enjoy the ballpark this week because he's laid up in an Albuquerque hospital bed and undergoing chemotherapy.
He can't see the dust fly in the air when someone slides into third, or the swing-and-a-miss when someone strikes out on a blazing fastball.
He can feel it, however. There are a lot of local Justin Solomon fans who don't even know the kid but are sending him love with their gifts, best wishes and heart-felt prayers.
I'm one of em.
But the professional baseball scouts? Visiting here for only a week?
What do they know about Justin?
One of them, a great guy named Marty who scouts for the Minnesota Twins, handed me a letter Monday night.
Standing and sitting around him when he did were other great scouts such as Jim with the Major League Baseball scouting bureau and who has attended Connie Mack in Farmington since 1968. And Gerald, from the Atlanta Braves who loves our fishing. Or Rusty, who for some reason loves those silly bright-orange hats the concession-stand runners sport on their heads.
Most of these particular scouts are based in the Texas area or around the southwest.
The letter was addressed to Justin, but they allowed me to share it with you.
"Dear Justin,
"The Texas Scouts Association heard about your battle with leukemia last night while watching the Connie Mack World Series in Farmington. We want you to know we're all pulling for you to make a full recovery.
"Two makeup qualities in a baseball player that really impress Major League scouts are courage and fight. From what we've heard from people at Ricketts Park, you have plenty of both.
"Justin, you'll be in our prayers as you work toward your recovery. We all hope to see your name in a college baseball lineup real soon."
The scouts gathered together shortly after news of Justin's fight was announced Sunday night and decided to also donate to him, from the Texas Scouts Association, a gift of $1,000 to help on hospital expenses.
When they handed me the letter and asked me to get it to Justin's parents, there was a check inside made out to the Justin Solomon Donation Account at Vectra Bank. But it wasn't what they promised.
It was for $2,000.
***
That cute girl going through the stands at Ricketts with a money bucket for donations is Lindsey Jones, who with her friends collected $1,700 on Sunday night for Justin. Meanwhile his friends on the Piedra Vista High School football team had a car wash and raised another $2,600 in one afternoon.
Many of you pitched in a dollar or two to one of these efforts, so thank you.
My point in mentioning it here is the unity in community that makes this place special.
Our governor noticed it.
Gov. Susana Martinez was here last Friday for opening night. I got to spend quite a bit of time with her, and little did I know that I would be spending the evening with her teaching her how to throw a baseball.
Rick Simmons, Kim Carpenter and myself all do volunteer work at the world series, and when we learned the governor needed a little help getting prepared to make the celebrity "first pitch" in opening ceremonies, we naturally offered to help.
It was a blast, as I ended up working with Gov. Martinez in two bull pen sessions to get her ready. How often does something like that happen?
When she walked onto the field for the big moment, the crowd gave her a standing ovation. She was flooded before and after by fans wanting an autograph or picture made with her. She obliged them all.
The governor went on and on about how wonderful the people are in Farmington and San Juan County. She was impressed.
See, even politics can get in order with baseball.
Oh and by the way, no bystander fans were injured in the coaching of the governor to make that pitch.
***
Finally, I'll leave you with this.
Someone I dearly love sent me an email with words from my favorite movie, "Field of Dreams."
Burt Lancaster played the role of Moonlight Graham in that movie, an oldtimer who gave up baseball to become a doctor and save lives. There was a scene in the movie in which he was asked if he had any regrets or missed the game.
He said:
"Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't.
"That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases; stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag.
"That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?"
Dreams certainly come true at Ricketts Park.
Some... some only begin their special journey there in a place ripe for seeds.
I love this game.
And it seems to love Farmington.
Troy Turner is the editor of The Daily Times. He can be contacted at tturner@daily-times.com; or at P.O. Box 450, Farmington, NM 87499.
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