A Nod to Kersh
Note: This is a guest column by my son, Jake Freedman
Yesterday, the baseball world got news that was widely-expected: Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershaw announced his retirement following this season.
Kershaw doesn’t throw as hard as the new generation, yet still has figured out a way to get guys out. With four kids and a fifth on the way, the timing made sense for the big lefty to hang up his cleats. As a fellow lefty who grew up in Los Angeles during his prime, it was not a shock that Clayton Kershaw was my favorite pitcher. His motion was too crazy for me to emulate on the mound and his “Uncle Charlie” curveball had too much curve for my dad to let me throw, but he was still the pitcher I looked up to the most. He never got too high, never too low, just good-ol’ Clayton Kershaw.
When I was younger and went to games with my dad and/or grandfather, I always remember missing Kershaw by one day; in fact, I don’t think I ever saw him pitch with my grandfather, we were always one day late and saw Zack Greinke pitch. But the first time I remember seeing number 22 on the mound, was a game against another giant of this generation and a guy who played just down the I-5, Mike Trout. It wasn’t just the battle of LA, it was a battle between the best pitcher and the best hitter of my childhood.
I have since seen Kersh pitch many times, most notably in Game 1 of the 2017 World Series and then in Game 5 of the 2018 World Series where we rooted against him and then celebrated the Red Sox fourth championship in my 15-plus years (at the time). And I saw him pitch a few times after that Fall Classic game.
This past summer, my dad had a press pass for a random Saturday night game and asked me if I wanted to go. It was a lazy Saturday, so I decided to make a trip to Chavez Ravine, and it just so happened that Clayton Kershaw was on the bump that night. My dad was in the press box so I wandered around and, of course, made my way by the bullpen to watch him warm up. I didn’t realize how many others had thought the same thing, so I watched his bullpen from the bleachers. After he finished, he tossed his ball to the ground and it just sat there. So once he walked towards the dugout the crowds dispersed, I walked down and saw another pitcher walking over to where the ball was and asked him if I could get it, and he tossed it to me. Yes, the ballhawk in me was thrilled to have a ball in my hands, but this one was different, this was most likely the last time I would see one of my childhood idols in person, and I had a little piece of that in my hand.
So, to Matt Sauer, thank you for tossing me that Kershaw warm up ball that no one else seemed to notice; you made this lifelong Kersh fan very happy. And to Uncle Chuck, thank you for giving that young lefty someone to look up to and this now little bit older lefty, a lifetime of Dodger baseball memories.
