an ever-present tug of war

An interesting topic has cropped up on the Cape League Insider Blog and on Codball. Russ Charpentier of the Cape Cod Times reported on the Insider blog that Matt Hall has decided to leave the Bourne Braves early, and that closer Jordan Flasher may soon take the same route.

These early departures seem to happen every year. With the all-star game in the books, a lot of scouts have packed up. The school year starts soon. It's hot and humid. And with 60 college games and 40 Cape League games under their belts, the fatigue is really creeping in. Other reasons specific to individual players can motivate an early exit, as well.

All of it's understandable, but it still kind of sucks. As fans, we want the Cape League season to mean something on a grand scale, and undoubtedly it means something to us. When a player skips out, it's a reminder that, to some of the guys in uniform, it doesn't mean as much.

I'm not saying Hall and Flasher are in that group. I don't know them. They may have perfectly good reasons for leaving. It may be what's best for them right now, and who can begrudge them that? But as players who are leaving early, they represent a larger issue.

It's sort of an ever-present tug of war, I think. A summer league is about development. It's about exposure. And it's about showcasing yourself. With its tradition and prestige, the Cape League has always added winning to the list. Thousands of fans show up, and they care. Dozens of volunteers for each team devote countless hours to the cause, and they care, too. Coaches could have taken a summer off, but they're on the Cape, and they care.

Unfortunately, there will always be players who don't.

I'll never forget a few years ago when I looked at the end-of-season awards list. The top prospect was a guy who had pitched for Chatham. I was shocked. I'd followed the A's most of the summer, and I didn't remember him at all. Did I just miss him? Well, no. He barely pitched. That's the way he wanted it -- give his arm some rest, pitch on the nights when the right people were watching, show the scouts just enough. His summer wasn't about helping the team, it was about helping himself.

You can't really blame him. You've got a million dollar arm, you do what you can to make sure you get a million dollars for it, even if it means being selfish and looking out only for yourself.

The question, though, is does that attitude ever fade? If that kind of player makes the Major Leagues -- his ultimate destination -- can he really change everything he's always done? Can he sacrifice his own career goals for team goals? Or will he stick with what got him there? Always thinking about the next contract, working hard just so he can make more money.

I don't know the answers. In some sense, you have to do what's best for yourself. When Ricky Williams quit the Miami Dolphins, I had no problem with it. There were drug issues, obviously, but I still think his intentions were true. He didn't want to play anymore. He wanted to live his life, and he didn't want football to be a part of it.

I couldn't blame him. He's a free spirit who clearly didn't feel like the NFL was where he was supposed to be. Yes, he had team obligations, but at some point, those have to take a backseat. It bothered me when Williams was so roundly criticized in the media. How could sports columnists say what was right for someone they didn't really know. If I apply the same logic to the Cape League, I shouldn't be the least bit upset that players want to skip out early.

But I am.

I think it goes back to the Cape League and its meaning. To me -- and to all of us who follow it -- the Cape League is something special. It's bigger than the players, bigger than the teams, bigger than all of us. I saw my first baseball game in Chatham. I was six months old. I may have slept through it and we may have only stayed three innings, but still. That's special. The top 19-and 20-year-old players in the world all want to play on a tiny stretch of land, on high school fields, for nothing. That's special. Families welcome those players into their homes and end up with practially adopted sons. That's special. Pepper games during fog delays. That's special. Baseball, pure baseball. That's special.

That's why it hurts when some players don't see that. They've been conditioned. To strive for greatness in athletics requires a constant eye to the future. It's the destination, then the next destination and the next. The journey too often takes a backseat. Some players don't realize that this one step on their journey -- this one summer on the Cape -- could be as great as any other step, maybe even better.

Some of them don't realize that it's special.

But as long as we keep believing that it is, keep showing up in droves, keep supporting the players, keep loving Cape League baseball, the players who get it -- the ones who just want to play all day, the ones who sleep with their bats, the ones who love the smell of the glove and the sound their spikes make when they walk off the field, the ones who would give anything for one more day, one more game -- they'll believe it, too.