My Time At Bat
A Story of Perseverance
By Chuck Hinton
Copyright © 2012 Charles E. Hinton, Jr.
Published by Christian Living Books, Inc.
http://christianlivingbooks.com
Smashwords Edition ISBN 978-1-56229-220-1
Printed Version ISBN 1-56229-003-7 Hardback
Printed Version ISBN 1-56229-176-9 Paperback
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Unless otherwise marked, all Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the memory of my flower. We will surely miss her on a regular basis. It is going to take time to heal. Nevertheless, like other things, we shall overcome it. We will cherish the time that we shared with her. She was a most giving and loving person with a beautiful smile that she shared with everyone she met. I truly believe that she never met a stranger. She was always pleasant and kind to everyone.
Jonquil Hinton Hawkins (Joni)
December
9, 1960 – January 8, 2002
Chapter 3 – Following My Dream
Chapter 6 – The Expansion Washington Senators
Chapter 7 – On Stage at the Show
Chapter 8 – Many Years to Come
Chapter 9 – More Memorable Moments
Chapter 10 – An Inside-the-Park Look
Chapter 11 – Baseball in Black and White
Chapter 12 – Life After Baseball
Chapter 14 – For Love of the Game
DISCLAIMER: The printed version of this title contains lots of photographs and newspaper clippings which enhance this book. For a more complete look at the life of Chuck Hinton, please purchase the printed version of this title. It is available in both hardback and paperback.
A first time author, Chuck Hinton, displays an immense capacity for recall in detailing a life of eleven years of baseball in this book. However, after one reads to the story-line, one recognizes that within the baseball text is a revelation of moral fiber that is every bit as interesting as the work itself.
My Time At Bat –A Story of Perseverance clearly demonstrates that Chuck Hinton is a family man–one who does his baseball thing as a sideline. The reader finds this to be true from the opening paragraphs. He begins with a moving eulogy to his oldest daughter, Jonquil, who died only months before publication of these memoirs.
There’s an adorable photograph of Chuck with his son, an athlete in high school.
His second of three daughters, Kimberly, was embraced in hour-after-hour of patient explanation of the intricacies of the game so that she could assist her father in writing the story of his life and career. And third and youngest daughter, Tiffany, reaped the portrayal of a father who had the pride of a king when she came home September 1, 2001 to be married.
In essence, My Time At Bat–A Story of Perseverance is an interesting read for fans of baseball, and an emotional time for those who have adoring families.
–Sam Lacy, BBWA
Hall of Fame ‘97
When I retired from Howard University and the D.C. Department of Recreation, I was given three retirement parties–the last of which was held at RFK Stadium. To my surprise, my daughter Kim had put together a small book that told a lot about me and my career. We passed it out as a memento to the attendees of what they called “Chuck’s Roast.” That was the start of this book.
Kim, who is in the publishing business, suggested I add to that memento and put together a larger book that fans and players would be proud to read and share. Therefore, I compiled memories that are dear to me. I hope the resulting book will be pleasing to read.
I found it easy to stay away from knocking players or other people. I don’t want to do something that would damage someone. Sometimes you have to get things in the right perspective. You are competing against other teams, but you don’t have to be unkind. Nor will you find any curse words in this book. I will not tell you what went on in the clubhouses with the players kidding each other or stealing signals or really working hard to break up a double play that could win a game but could put a player out for an entire career. There are many things I fail to talk about because I feel they need to stay among Major League players only.
What you will find is an encouraging story about what it was like to make it in the big league, complete with behind-the-scenes information and many funny stories. I want most of all to help others do some of the things that worked for me. What a life I have led, eleven years in the Major League.
I like to think this book will serve the baseball world a little differently in many ways from other books. I truly hope you will enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed putting it together.
Bunny, Thank you for being there for me; For as long as I live, I will always be there for you. God’s best to you.
I also would like to thank my family, as well as each of my former teammates and the players against whom I competed. I like to think I made many fans happy, for you all are the ones who made me give my best day in and day out.
I would like to give Kim credit for making this book a reality. She was a daily reminder of what had to be done, that I should sit down and really think about what it was like and what it really meant to me. She cracked the whip often. However, she was kind and polite, and I truly thank her. When you have done something, as I have played Major League Baseball, you don’t want to brag or always remind people that you did it. She simply told me that many people would like to know inside information and what it was like to be there. That is what I tried to do–give everyone a feeling of being there and make it simple so almost anyone could understand it.
No book is worth its weight unless it can put the reader into the writer’s head or heart. Baseball was so much fun to me, and my love for the game and all that it stood for was a great thrill that I can’t really put into words. If I could have, I would have paid baseball to play–but baseball paid me to have so much fun on the field against the best players in the world.
Just think–the best players in the world. I, Chuck Hinton, was one of them for eleven years, from 1961-1971. God has been so good to me in giving me the talent. My wife was always there for me, and I will be grateful to her always. I thank the many teams for their support. The fans–both home and away–were great, and they gave me a lot of encouragement.
My opponents gave me many reasons to want to excel because so many times they pushed me to be a real competitor. However, my Kim did everything to get these things into book form. For all the pushing and kind words to her Daddy, I truly thank her. My love will forever be hers.
Most people think you can sit and wait for success to come. I had to go after it. I put my talent on the line where the odds were greatly stacked against me–in Major League Baseball. I learned to keep myself in position to do what I had to do, to stay in shape, to keep my mind in the game, and to know how to win the battle with the pitcher, as a hitter and a base stealer.
It was not easy. The road from Rocky Mount, North Carolina, to the Major League was long and sometimes bumpy. There were times when I didn’t know I would get there. So many hurdles were in my path, and there were always tests that I had to pass. But I was so raw and ready to show what I could do.
Growing up, I had always thought that if you could hit, run, catch and throw, you would make it in baseball. Boy, did I have a lot to learn! These things are all important–in most cases, a must–but they are only a part of what it takes to survive in the Minor Leagues, not to mention the Major Leagues. I didn’t know just how much it took to be the kind of player I was required to be.
What It Takes
Just about every kid dreams of becoming a professional athlete in most major sports. Little does he know what it takes to get the chance and then pass the test. When you are in your hometown playing a sport, you very well may be the best player there. But when you sign and go away to seek bigger opportunities, you may be the worst player there. What really separates the good from the average is doing what you do when it counts. Performing in clutch situations is not something just anyone can do. Knowing what you can do is so important. But knowing what to do, at all times, is even more important.
You have to study and retain so much information to play among the best. You can never make the same mistake twice. You listen to learn what will help you. And those things that will not do you any good you let fall by the wayside. You have to learn to respect those who are in charge, and, of course, you learn from those who have been there for years. Knowing when to talk is important. I think that being an all-around nice person is also important to be successful. You can’t be everyone’s friend, but you can be nice to everyone.
You learn early on that winning is the key. You learn that you have to be ready on defense on every pitch. Being in the right place at the right time is a must. You learn to think ahead about what to do and where to be in every situation. In other words, you must be able to think about the next play even before it happens. This is also true when you are at bat. You might think that facing the best pitchers in the world is an easy test. Well, let me tell you that in most cases, the pitcher has the advantage. The other team has discussed you ahead of time, and the pitcher of the day sometimes kept the chart the day before, recording what pitches were thrown to you and where, and what you did against those pitchers.
Then the pitcher goes over that information and plans his attack against you. If there is a weakness, he and his team will know and plan to pitch you and play you a certain way. There is nothing left to chance at the Major League level. In my years of hitting against all clubs, no matter what you did against them, they tended to stay with their play against you.
To hit effectively in the Major Leagues, you have to do some homework also. You, too, have to record what the other team does in certain situations. You have to know just what and where that next pitch will be. It’s not luck that you know this. Looking for a certain pitch in a certain spot is what you live for because the hitter doesn’t often miss that pitch.
One pitch a hitter usually could expect is a fastball when the pitcher was behind in the count one ball, no strikes; two balls, no strikes; three balls, one strike; sometimes even no balls, no strikes. It’s called a cripple pitch. You don’t want to miss those pitches because when the count is turned around and in the pitcher’s favor, you are at his mercy, and believe me, it’s not good. Your eyes are your best friend because you must see where the pitch is and if it is “hitable”. That means that if you can’t get a good swing and put the bat on the ball, then you have to pass that pitch up–that is, if you don’t have two strikes against you.
At bat, you learn to concentrate to the point where you don’t hear or see anyone but the pitcher you are facing.
Whether at bat or in the field, the physical part of baseball was easy. The mental part is what makes the difference. Talent will get you in the door, but mental toughness will keep you there.
Much of what you have to know in professional baseball you learn in the Minor League. After all, that’s what the Minors are for. However, things are different in the Major League. In the Majors, you know what to do and how to get it done. You are there because you have earned that right. But to stay there, you must contribute day in and day out to the success of your team. It is not easy, by any means. You must learn from your mistakes. You must fight to keep any edge you can get. Every day, you have to be ready to play–and that means mentally as well as physically.
Besides having to earn your keep every day, you should do it for your fans. I always thought the fans deserved to see my best. No, it didn’t put any added pressure on me; it was mainly my way of not letting myself get in any position but the best. To me, the fans were the reason we did what we did, and they paid to see us do it, so they deserved to see our best.
As a professional baseball player, how you handle yourself off the field is also very important. A team likes to have players it can depend on, on and off the field, because the team has so much invested in them. It is no secret that your team watches most of the things you do, good or bad. Adjustments have to be made all the time. There are many things you might not like, but for the best interest of you and the team, you make the necessary changes.
Life is about making adjustments. There are many times when you would like to do the things you are comfortable doing, but, because of others, you do what you have to do to keep peace or make the whole picture better. The adjustments off the field are much harder to deal with than playing in the Major League. Doing the best you can is all you can do. Make sure you have made the best decision, whatever the situation might be. This is part of being a complete person–which is as important as being a good player.
In the pages ahead, I will show you how I surpassed the hurdles, how I passed the tests, how I persevered along my journey to success in the Major Leagues–and in life. I hope my story and the principles I live by will help people, male or female, in all walks of life. I want most of all to tell you how it truly felt to be a Major Leaguer. It was a dream come true.
I was born Charlie Edward Hinton Jr. to Charlie and Ada Hinton on May 3, 1934, in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. I was the second son of seven children–Doris, Charlie Leonard, Ellen, Ruth, myself, James “Checo” and Herman “Patches.” I had quite a time living. As a baby, I had double pneumonia, and my parents didn’t think I would survive. The first-born son in our family, Charlie Leonard, lived three months and twenty days, and then died of double pneumonia. My father told me many times that he was so happy to have sons.
Our family was so complete. We always had each other, and I never knew that the Hinton family wasn’t a rich clan. My dad gave us a dime each day until we reached twelve years old. Then he gave us a quarter a day. My mother, full of wisdom, encouraged us to start a Christmas savings account at the local bank. I did that for about four years. Buying war stamps was also a way of saving, but when you are young, getting candy and going to the movies is always more exciting.
I took an interest in baseball at an early age. My sister Ruth and I used to take piano lessons every Thursday, but we had to practice during the time I was to play ball. Ruth continued to practice and went on to play for a church in Greensboro, North Carolina. However, I didn’t reach the first grade in music because I just couldn’t stand a game going on while I was practicing piano.
I stopped going to lessons, and I would use the money to go to the movies. After about two weeks of my doing this, my mom found out. Of course, this didn’t sit well with her. She did what she always did when we did something wrong. She went to the switch. Mom would make us get our own switches. That was, unless we kept getting the very small ones.
Getting a whipping was not in itself so bad. The talking you got during and after it was the real punishment–words such as, “This hurt me more than you.” The one that really got me was, “Shut up from crying.” You would be hurting, but you had a limited time to cry. So you would suck it up and stop. If you didn’t stop crying, you would get another whipping.
My mother was more than fair with all of us. She would let us get away with some things for a while, and then she would remind us of that while she whipped us. I couldn’t understand how she could remember those things and in detail–even the day and date. If you got a spanking in school, or some other adult had to spank you or correct you, that was a doubleheader because you got it at home also.
Of course, I continued to play ball. When I was fifteen years old, I remember telling our director of recreation, D. J. Lenhardt, that I was playing for the local semi-pro team. He didn’t approve of it because he thought they would misuse me and that I would start drinking or take up other bad habits. He also said, “You’re not quite strong enough.”
When he showed up at one of my games, on a Sunday after church, I just had to prove to him that I could take care of myself. I don’t remember who won the game, but I do know that I did well enough to get his stamp of approval. His words to me were, “You can play with them, but don’t let them lead you into bad things.” I thanked him for his approval. It meant more to me than almost anything I could think of. It gave me a sense of confidence in my ability, and I think it showed in my performance.
But being the oldest boy in our family took me away from baseball for a period. My mother’s dad and his baby boy Herman, whom my brother Patches was named after, had a farm, and for part of the summer, we would go and help with the tobacco crop. Being the oldest boy, I had to spend one whole summer working there. It was by far the worst time of my life. There was no ball, just work. My mother had a time keeping my dad from coming and taking me home. Our family was just like my mother’s: three boys and three girls. In my father’s family, there were six boys and one girl. We didn’t see a great deal of my dad’s family because most of them moved from Rocky Mount at young ages.
My mother’s dad lived in Nash County, only about fifteen miles away. I only worked there one summer because I told my dad that no baseball, no playing and no movies was not for a city boy, nor was it good for a future athlete. But I didn’t need to tell him. After one time, thank God, he put his foot down and insisted I not go again. To this day, I think it was the only time I sided with my dad against my mom. I never heard my mom and dad say a cross word to each other; fighting and arguing were out of the question.
My mom worked one summer, maybe two, at the farm. She was busy at home teaching us about life. Some of the best advice my mother, a very religious woman, taught us was, “Take the chances life gives. Prove to yourself–and to the world–that you can do whatever you set your heart to, and always remember Jesus.” My dad was such a provider. We always had what we needed. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, they both showed us love, support, pride and a God-fearing life. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I’ve given my family what my parents gave me. It’s so easy to love people because they are people. This is a command from Jesus.
My father owned his own taxicab, which he would lend me on occasion. When I would keep it too long, Daddy would vow never to let me use it again. Momma would say, “Charlie, you needed the rest anyway.” He’d always let me use it again, though.
Daddy set his work schedule around our games. He attended almost every local game we played–and there were plenty...football, basketball and baseball for three sons. He was so supportive and proud of us all. He would brag excessively about what we had accomplished.
Momma loved to go to our basketball and baseball games. She would always attend the games that were against arch-rivals. She found them the most exciting. She liked to watch the crowd reacting to the game more than the game itself. However, she would never come to the football games. She said, “I don’t know why you would want to play any game where the ambulance is waiting there for you.” Everyone loved “Papasan,” as he was affectionately called, and our home was the local hangout. My father provided us with all kinds of modern conveniences–a TV, a refrigerator, a large stove and an indoor bathroom. Believe it or not, other families in our neighborhood did without these things.
Momma provided food. Boy, could she cook...and bake. Everyone would come to our house to eat because we always had plenty of food. After games, my mother would feed the entire team. For Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would bake each teammate his own favorite cake.
Growing up in Rocky Mount, we lived right behind a baseball field. Everybody played baseball. For as long as I can remember, I could catch, throw and hit a ball–any ball. That didn’t change as I grew older. I always read up on baseball and did all I could to improve as a player.