This weekend Chris and I went to a game where a little buddy of ours was playing. It was Y-ball — tee-ball played through the YMCA. It had been a LONG time since Chris’s Y-ball days.
I love Y-ball. There were no grumpy parents, no thrown bats, no slammed batting helmets, no hysterical coaches. It was, well, fun.
The third baseman rarely looked at the plate, but he compensated by having really cool sunglasses. One of the players woke up that morning just wanting to wear his favorite camo shorts instead of his baseball pants. Not a problem.
There are no strike outs. Everyone hits the ball. If you can’t hit it with your coach pitching it, the ball goes on the tee until you do whack it.
Actually there are no outs. Well, there are and there aren’t. The team in the field can get an out by fielding the ball and throwing to first or tagging the runner. But — here’s the interesting part — the runner isn’t considered out by the team batting. He gets to stay.
And everyone scores. When the last batter comes up each inning, he runs all the way around, no matter whether he hit it 100 feet or 1 foot.
Fans on both sides cheered every player. One of the dads pitching had a younger son who wanted daddy. Not a problem: he pitched while holding him. At times, the child wanted mommy (the first base coach), so he’d run back and forth. Everyone just thought it was cute.
I know that in later years more of a sense of competition has to kick in. But it wouldn’t hurt us if every once in a while in little leagues all around we decided to play by Y-ball rules. Just for a night.