In celebration of baseball and community

I love baseball. My teams are the Seattle Mariners and the Boston Red Sox – except when they play each other, then it is Seattle all the way. I’m not a fanatic of the game, just one who loves to cheer, jeer and shout when an exciting play unfolds.

But I never expected to get to throw out the first pitch at a Mat-Su Miners game — or anywhere else, for that matter.

I was stunned when I showed up at the Frontiersman June 24 and Publisher Mark Kelsey asked me if I would throw the first pitch during the Frontiersman’s annual

Veterans and Military Appreciation Night at Hermon Brothers Field.

At first I balked. I’m not a famous person or a highly decorated veteran. I’m just an old GI of the modest rank of SGT and a small set of decorations earned for my more than 21 years of service.

Several years ago, I started writing this column as a community volunteer for the Frontiersman. And last year, Radio Free Palmer added a veterans radio show, which I host as a volunteer.

To help make ends meet, I also work for the paper in the circulation department, fixing and deploying newspaper racks all over the Valley.

I couldn’t hide my grin as I left the office to complete my rounds that Tuesday. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of honoring my fellow veterans and representing the Frontiersman all in one fell swoop.

But there was one very small, teeny, tiny hitch to it all: I hadn’t thrown a baseball since I was kid.

After work I rushed home to Wasilla, changed into my new Frontiersman T-shirt and, of course, my best going-to-Sunday-jump boots, highly shined to a glossy black. I topped it off with my leather flight jacket and my best cap, which said in bright gold lettering “U.S. Army Retired.”

Spiffily attired, I headed back to Palmer and Hermon Brothers field where the Miners play.

The Mat-Su Miners are part of the Alaska Baseball League. Top college players from all over the country come here each summer to hone their skills in one of the most competitive summer baseball leagues. Over the years, many have gone on to play in the big leagues. Some have even played in the World Series.

I arrived at 6 p.m. and met Denise Christopher, the Miners’ assistant general manager, who whisked me away to meet her husband, Pete, who is the team’s GM.

I was then led to the team’s dugout. There, players and coaches welcomed me with handshakes, fist bumps and more than a few “thank you for your service.” Their welcome was very genuine, if a bit overwhelming.

In a matter of moments, two players with a ball and mitts in hand came to help. I didn’t have a mitt, so I threw the ball to one of the Miners, who would catch it and toss it back to a second player who would hand it to me to throw again.

As I warmed up, the players moved farther apart until finally I could throw the ball the 60-feet, 6-inches from the pitcher’s mound to home plate. I am sorry I didn’t get their names to properly thank them here.

I do remember Josh Meyer, No. 24 from southern California. He had an easy grin and a laid-back California vibe. We talked for a bit until the announcer called for people on the field and in the stands to rise for the national anthem.

The players jumped out of the dugout and lined up on the first base foul line. Then Josh waved to me. He’d made room on the field line for me.

I jumped in, stood at attention and saluted the flag. What a thrill! I was humbled and honored to be included with them standing tall for my flag and country. It was something I will never forget.

Then I heard the announcer say my name. As he began to read my bio to the crowd, Josh and I made our way to our places – him to home plate, and me to the pitcher’s mound.

Alan Shepard’s prayer from 1961 became my mantra as I made my way to the mound. Here’s the G-rated version, “Oh Lord, please don’t let me screw up.”

Here goes the play by play: “Grota is up on the mound. Meyer gives him the sign. Here’s the wind up, and the pitch! On target, but the bottom falls out at the last second, and it’s in the dirt! Ball one!”

Afterward, Josh ran up, shook my hand and handed me the ball. Back in the dugout, I felt better as the players shook my hand and gave me some more fist bumps and offered words of encouragement.

I told them thanks and to go kick the other team’s you know what. And they did, winning 10-4.

I have the ball in my room and a bunch of new friends to show for a fun time, plus memories I will never forget of my time spent with the Mat-Su Miners.

Thanks, guys, for all that you did to make this old GI feel 30 years younger for a short spell. It was a true honor to meet you all.

Now go out there and play ball!

Wasilla resident Daniel D. Grota retired from the U.S. Army after more than 21 years of service.