Spencer Steer's joyous journey
There's less joy in the world, by a fair amount, than there should be. I'll celebrate it anywhere I can find it.
The Cincinnati Reds have always been my team. I spent the majority of my youth growing up in Reds country. I attended World Series games at Riverfront Stadium in 1976 and 1990. I watched Tom Seaver pitch his only career no-hitter one magical June evening in 1978 from just above the first base dugout. I listened on the radio to Marty and Joe in my laboratory as Tom Browning pitched a perfect game late in the season in 1988. You can’t shake attachments like that. I’m a Reds fan until the day I die.
The Reds are a “small market” team, which is another way of saying that they don’t like to spend a lot of money on big contracts. With the economics of modern professional baseball, it’s unlikely that we’ll see the likes of another “Big Red Machine” ever again. But the Reds, through several regimes of miserly ownership, have been particularly rode hard and put up wet. Being a Reds fan has been an exercise in patience, endurance, and ultimately disappointment for several decades now.
I still follow the Reds on satellite TV and radio all the way out here in Idaho. I’ve even managed to get in a few games at Great American Ballpark during the occasional summer trip back east. It’s been rough, but like all fans, I persevere.
A few years ago, the Reds finally got a good manager for their situation, David Bell, and a general manager, Nick Krall, with the vision and patience to acquire and cultivate young talent. Suddenly, scouting was important again to the Reds organization. Older, unproductive players with big salaries were gradually replaced with talented younger players who were given the time to develop. It took a few years, but last season, the Reds began to make big strides toward respectability.
The 2023 Reds were known as the “Rally Reds” due to their MLB-best penchant for coming from behind late in games for wins. With essentially the same cast in 2024, along with a few smart new acquisitions, this season’s Reds have picked up where they left off last fall. The Reds are currently 4–2 and appear ready to compete for the NL Central title. And the “Rally Reds” are definitely back.
Last Monday, on a cold and rainy night at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, the Reds’ left fielder, Spencer Steer, an essential cog in the young Rally Reds Machine, hit a 10th-inning grand slam, which led to a come-from-behind 6-3 win over the Phillies. This moment was notable to Reds fans not just for the win but for the look on Steer’s face in the dugout after touching all of the bases. I am including the photo here again for your edification. It’s just wonderful.
This, friends, is what joy looks like. There is not nearly enough of this in the world, so I celebrate it everywhere I can find it. It doesn’t matter to me that professional baseball players make a lot of money to play a kid’s game and are expected to be able to hit a baseball for what they are getting paid. No, what matters to me is that this young man experienced a moment of pure, unbridled joy that he will certainly never forget and took all of us along with him in the moment.
It was almost as magical as watching Tom Terrific no-hit the Cardinals that summer evening decades ago. But with Seaver, it was different. Seaver was a wiley old pro who’d had to retire that great overhead curve and blazing fastball in the twilight of his career and learn how to pitch by location. As cool as it was to watch, it was a swansong, a final gesture before riding off into the sunset. Steer’s blast was a triumph and celebration of the exuberance of youth. It was simply a glorious moment.
I have occasionally written Substack essays about what it’s like to feel 10 feet tall. Mostly (though not always), this is a privilege of youth. But whether it’s happening to me personally or not, I’m happy every time I encounter it. In a world that is supperated with misery, I think that I’ll just allow myself to enjoy this moment for a while. And it’s up to you, but there’s room on the bandwagon.
Associated Press and Idaho Press Club-winning columnist Martin Hackworth of Pocatello is a physicist, writer, and retired Idaho State University faculty member who now spends his time with family, riding bicycles and motorcycles, and arranging and playing music. Follow him on Twitter @MartinHackworth, on Facebook at facebook.com/martin.hackworth, and on Substack at martinhackworthsubstack.com.