Baseball foreign no more for Clay High School foreign exchange student Alex Aasen

SOUTH BEND — Constant chatter coming from the third-base dugout in a recent high school baseball game suddenly ceased.

Starters and reserves alike for Clay High School scrambled to the top step. They leaned against the dugout railing, hanging on every pitch as if a conference championship depended on senior outfielder Alex Aasen driving the ball to an outfield gap.

All eyes centered on the lanky 5-foot-11 kid with a want-to that matched his oversized home uniform.

“Yo, Alex is up!”

“Talk it up!”

“Let’s go, Alex!’’

With a looping swing from the right side, Aasen slapped a pitch toward the shortstop, who watched it roll under his glove. That allowed Aasen to reach first. He took his lead. A big one. So much so that it demanded a pick-off throw. Aasen dived back headfirst to the delight of his teammates, many of whom still stood at the dugout rail. Aasen stole second, then advanced to third on a groundout. As Aasen progressed further along the base paths, his teammates cheered for him.

“He’s a rebel!”

“He’s insane!”

Aasen eventually scored that Saturday afternoon, one that saw Clay run-rule Bowman Academy in both ends of a doubleheader. After crossing the plate, Aasen hustled back to the dugout, carefully placed his white helmet where it was supposed to go and pulled back on his purple hoodie.

Two hours before first pitch, Aasen and his teammates already were at work. They loosened up in the outfield with sprints. They played catch. Then they hit. All the work was done with reggae music bouncing out of the Clay Field speakers.

UB40 singing about red, red wine. Jimmy Buffett crooning that it must be five o’clock somewhere. When Aasen stepped in for hacks against the pitching machine, the music changed.

It wasn’t by design, but maybe not a coincidence.

Reggae was replaced by a classic 1970s rock ballad from the Eagles, a song that fits Aasen’s story. It played as he practiced his bunts, then lined several pitches into the outfield.

“New Kid In Town.”

Ten months ago, that was Aasen, a native of Bo, Norway. New to America and the way everything works over here. New to Clay. New to baseball. Aasen had never played the game. Never swung a bat. Never picked up a glove. Never threw a ball. None of that stopped him from shooting baseball coach Joel Reinebold a text. Aasen explained his situation — that he was a foreign exchange student, that he was interested in baseball, that he wanted to play during fall camp.

“I don’t just want to sit at home and do nothing,” Aasen said with a shrug and a smile. “I wanted something to do. I just figure that baseball looked fun and I want to try it.”

Learning the game

First time out during fall ball wasn’t fun. Aasen doesn’t own a glove, so he borrows a black and brown Rawlings model from teammate Diego Cardenas. He doesn’t own spikes, so he borrows a pair of black high-top UnderArmour cleats. He didn’t have any reference point the first time he stepped in the batter’s box.

The first pitch he saw smacked him in the left biceps. Welcome to America’s pastime, kid.

“It was nothing,” Aasen said. “I was like, ‘Ah, whatever. I’ll at least get to first base.’”

Aasen arrived having never really watched baseball. Soccer’s the sport of choice in Norway, a sport that Aasen insists he plays well. Skiing’s also big. There’s no Major League Baseball network. No daily highlights of stars such as Kris Bryant and Bryce Harper and Mike Trout. The 18-year-old Aasen didn’t grow up imitating their stances or swings. His exposure to the game was limited to YouTube highlights.

When he came to America, he was adamant. Don’t make him watch baseball. Games take too long. Let him play it.

“Just to get the experience of playing baseball because I don’t get to do that back home,” Aasen said. “It was weird at first. I didn’t know what to do.”

He sometimes still doesn’t. On this day, junior catcher Mark Williams pulled Aasen aside in the dugout to explain how to execute a drag bunt, then reviewed the myriad signs that Reinebold flashes from the third-base coaching box.

Aasen listened as if it were a final exam review for calculus. Locked in. Serious. Nodding his head.

Reinebold then reminded Aasen that as the designated hitter, it’s his job to play catch with the outfielders between innings. He reminded him after the first inning, after the second, after the third. Then he got it.

“He’s very observant,” Reinebold said. “He’ll come up and ask questions all the time. And he’s a pretty good athlete, too.”

Watching Aasen swing the bat, it’s hard to believe it was something he’d never done. He makes contact — sometimes solid contact — more often than not. Catching the ball remains an adventure. He makes sure to place his right (throwing) hand behind the glove on his left hand before watching the ball into the glove.

There’s some athleticism there. While shagging balls during batting practice, Aasen snatches one with his glove that had rolled to the outfield fence. Walking back to his spot in left, Aasen casually flipped the ball out of his glove behind his back, then reached back and grabbed it with his right.

“For a guy who’s never done it before, he’s done a good job,” Reinebold said. “If you would rank the kids from one to 20, he wouldn’t be 20. He’s here for a year. He knows his role.”

That’s to be a good teammate, listen, learn, have fun and play the game the right way, even if he still has trouble remembering to wait until a ball is caught before tagging up.

“I learn something new every day,” Aasen said. “I just go with the flow, you know?”

A different world

Aasen sought the challenge of attending high school for one year in a land he’d never visited. He knew it would be tough. Trying. He’d get homesick. He’d miss his family and friends back in Bo, pronounced Bur, a town of about 5,800 in southern Norway. Hours after landing in New York last August, he was in the middle of Times Square.

“That,” he said, “was overwhelming.”

Aasen knew nothing about where South Bend, Indiana was on the map. He would have preferred to experience his first year here in someplace warm, like California or Florida. He’d never heard of the University of Notre Dame. Rob Hunt, the school’s head athletic trainer for football, and his family were matched as Aasen’s host family through the foreign-exchange student program.

Student and host family gathered for dinner during Aasen’s first night in South Bend, when a red flag of sorts arose.

“I was like, ‘Hey, where’s the meat?’” Aasen said.

The Hunts are vegans and don’t eat gluten. That never appeared on the host family questionnaire.

“I’m the exact opposite,” Aasen said. “I was like, ‘Oh, this is going to be a tough year.’”

Aasen did what a typical teenager does — he improvised to find a solution. On Sundays, when the Hunts are off at church, Aasen accesses the DoorDash app on his cell and orders burgers and fries from Five Guys, or chicken strips from Sonic.

“The family I have here is nice,” Aasen said. “It’s going to be sad to leave.”

For months, Aasen couldn’t wait to return to Norway. At one point, he still was counting down the days. Only 90 more, then 60. It’s under 30 before his June 13 departure. Now he wishes time stood still. That he could do it all over again — go out for football as the team’s kicker, go to the prom, play more baseball.

It felt nothing like home when he arrived. It does now.

When Aasen returns to Norway, he’ll have to repeat his senior year of high school — teens there attend five years of high school.

“That kind of sucks,” he said. “I have to go back because that’s what I signed for. I miss my friends and miss home, but I’m going to miss this place.

“I’ve loved the American experience.”

On Tuesday, Aasen registered his first hit and drove in his first run in a 17-3 victory over South Bend Career Academy on Senior Night. It was a big moment. For him. For the Colonials. It was something nobody will soon forget. Same goes for Aasen.

“He’s been perfect,” Reinebold said. “I’d take him again anytime.”