Once a year, coaches and scouts from around Europe swarm like locust and gather at Major League Baseball’s Elite Camp for the top young prospects on the continent. This year, camp was in Hoofddorp, Holland, at the new Hoofddorp Pioneers complex. Dutifully, I, King of All Jewish Baseball, made an appearance. That’s right, Ladies and Geetles, it’s true, I went to Amsterdam for camp, and to allow the Dutch people to see me in person, from my balcony, of course.
I fly home to Israel tonight and do not have much time to write, so I will let the magical new artform known as photography tell the story for me. So sit back, relax, and be transported through the lens of my iphone into to a slightly over-crowded fantasy land called Amsterdam, where the streets are liquid, the fairies fly, and the bicycles never stop.
Good morning, Dudes. Time to stretch.
With my man John McLaren. Legend. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_McLaren_(baseball)
Coach Finley going over the finer points of base running and post WWII European economics.
It’s Dave Bush! Used to play aginst him in college when he was at Wake Forrest. Sad story. I went on to become the King of Jewish Baseball and he just dissapeared into oblivion, pitching 10 years in the Major Leagues for the Blue Jays and Brewers. Pathetic!
My Cincinnati brother (and the 2nd best short stop at camp) Barry Larkin, and the King of Irish Baseball, Steve Finley, talk to the guys before lunch. Practice in the morning. Games in the afternoon. Meetings at night.
This is the life for me.
Get me the hell out of that baseball prison. I require culture, and house boats. Take me to Amsterdam.
What a dump.
Don’t jump little dude! OK. Now you can jump.
Take me to the people. Show me how they live.
Amsterdam, Amsterdam. Man o Man. Amsterdam, Amsterdam. I’m lost in Amsterdam.