I know we've had stuff on it before, but I am dying for baseball to become a thing in Africa. My number one complaint about living here is the lack of baseball.
“I came from the slums, and learned carpentry here,” George told me when we arrived at the school. “Carpentry and baseball.” These days, he coaches on the soccer field in the back. There is a new netted batting cage there, paid for by Derrek Lee, the former major-league first baseman, who, along with star shortstop Jimmy Rollins, has taken an interest in Ugandan baseball.
I used to run baseball clinics in Brussels public schools, I told George. Once, a 9-year-old hit a grounder to shortstop. He dropped the bat, followed the ball and tackled the shortstop as if playing rugby. The runner grabbed the ball and looked at me for further instruction.
A couple of days later, we drove to Gayaza, a suburb north of Kampala where a Japanese aid agency built a field on land donated by a local Catholic church. The infield is flat. There are mounds in the bullpen.
George had organized three games that day. The first featured top 13- and 14-year-olds. They threw strikes, made plays and hit balls hard.
The next two games were adult games, one between Ugandan men and U.S. soldiers. (I even caught four innings in that one.) Uganda won in a blowout. “I don’t feel bad we beat them so bad,” George said. “It is their game, and I am glad they can see we are playing it well.”