Son #2 is now in high school. Translation: he now has real coaches. I’ve been retired (temporarily, at least) as a little league coach.
He and I have recently been to three little league games, watching young buddies of ours. It’s quite a different perspective from the stands.
One game was Y-ball. The spirit was wonderful. Score wasn’t kept (at least officially). Parents on both teams cheered for every player.
Another game was farm league. The machine pitched great, keeping the game moving right along. And again, people seemed to be there for fun.
But the third game was minor leagues. That’s kids who are 9-10 year olds. This was a very different game. I heard stuff that I’d never heard while out in the dugout or standing near third base giving kids the steal sign.
I couldn’t believe what a couple of the dads were yelling — at kids, at umpires, even at their own coaches. At one point, one of them screamed at his kid’s own coach, “Come on, man. That’s coaching 101. Wake up!” I wanted to turn around and say, “Hey, get off your keister and go coach yourself.” (That’s not to say that you shouldn’t have sent the runner from 3rd when the catcher threw down to second, GB. Ha!)
I loved my years of coaching little league. Here is the essence of my coaching wisdom for new coaches who are wondering what to say on the first day of practice: “DON’T EVER THROW THE BALL WITHOUT MAKING SURE THE PERSON IS WATCHING.” There it is. That’s the sum total of my wisdom. (Ok, that and “Sit on a fastball on the first pitch.”)
Here are a few of my previous posts about baseball and coaching.
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I don’t just like the idea of baseball.
I like the smell of it. I like the crack of the wood bat or the ping of the aluminum bat. I like teaching a kid how to lead with his hips as he swings. I like a sore arm and shoulder from throwing 20 too many fastballs the night before at practice. I like calling pitches for my son. I like seeing a kid that can’t catch still hustle to the fence, hit his cutoff man, and stop the double from being a triple. I love hot dogs at the stadium. I like seeing the #9 batter get his first hit of the season. I like seeing a kid lay down a bunt. Shoot, I just like seeing a kid look down to third and SEE the bunt sign. I like seeing the two teams line up after the game and shake hands, remembering that there are more important things than who won.
I like almost everything about baseball.
Except the Yankees.
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With Kevin Costner, it was just a movie.
But not John Grisham. He did build his field (seven baseball and softball fields, actually) on his property in Virginian ten years ago and they have come.
Now in the middle of coaching all-star baseball, I’m drawn again to the story of Cove Creek Park.
It’s his land and his fields. So guess who the commissioner of the league is. Right: Grisham. He’s often been the one cutting the grass and lining the field.
And the kids play by his rules: profanity, arguing with the ump, and poor sportsmanship aren’t tolerated. No throwing of bats, no tossing of helmets, no slamming of caps.
The parents? They’re comfortably seated beyond the center field fence so they don’t ruin the game for the kids.
Now THAT is a field of dreams!
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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.
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For months Chris’s glove sat idle. As he recovered from a wreck — first in a wheelchair and then in a brace — it lay in the bottom of his baseball bag.
This old Wilson glove has been in our family since about 1992. I think we got it when Matt was ten. He wore it through major league and maybe junior league. Then, when Chris got old enough he started wearing it.
I’ve thrown tens of thousand of balls to that old glove, oiled it dozens of times, and had it re-strung a couple times.
Yesterday that glove was back on his left hand. It was a good sight. We’re thankful that recovery continues.
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Yes, yes, last night went very well. We won first place (8-4) and get to enter the area tournament as Key City team #1.
This morning I was back at the field for a while helping with some cleaning to get ready for hosting tournament games. I got to clean to the best background “music” possible. We always have the best tunes there–including many of the songs nominated on this site a few days ago.
But this morning I cleaned with the sound of cheers behind me. It was a game in the Challenger League. All the children playing were handicapped. Most had parents right next to them, helping them bat, assisting them as they fielded.
Every time someone is announced coming up to the plate, every person in the stands cheers. Every time they swing (whether they hit it or not), everyone cheers.
All right, so the game is “rigged.” Everyone swings until they hit the ball. And when they hit the ball, they’re going to be safe at first. There were wheelchairs flying around the bases. I spoke to one of the adults who told me that one of the girls playing had woken up early that morning and was giddy with excitement about the game.
No one makes an out. No one is embarrassed. No one gets yelled at. No one gets nailed with an error. Everyone hits; everyone gets on base; everyone scores.
I like this game. I think Megan (our daughter who was mentally and physically handicapped, for those blog readers who don’t know us) would have enjoyed it, too.
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Six observations about coaching little league (from someone who’s been doing it since 1989):
1) Practices that last 2 hours are half as effective as practices that last 1 hour.
2) Practicing every day makes the coaches self-satisfied, but the kids tend to lose the fun.
3) Small amounts of money pay big dividends. On rare occasions I’ll play “hit the bucket,” where the first player to field a ground ball cleanly and hit the red bucket at home plate gets a buck. You’d think you offered tickets on the first manned mission to Mars.
4) Make sure one of the assistant coaches is much younger than you but still significantly older than the boys on the team. (Here is the advantage of having one son who’s 11 and another who’s 22.) That way the kids can have batting practice for an hour, but YOUR shoulder doesn’t feel like it needs surgery the next morning.
5) It’s just a game.
6) It’s just a game.
What a joy the game of baseball can be! The years I played from t-ball to HS varsity remain some of the best of my life. The game really does something to you.
At the age of 14, my first job was as a little league umpire.
Some of my best memories:
*free frito pie between games!
*getting paid to watch baseball
*making money at 14
And worst memories:
*punching a kid out so emphatically that he started crying at the plate
*dads with fingers curled around the chain link fence and veins bulging out of their neck
*moms that made the dads seem docile
Good times.
I just want to know something. Am I the antichrist because I love the Yankees and hate (only in a sports sense) the Cardinals? I grew up in Memphis where everyone but my older brother and his best friend loved the Cardinals. I go all the way back to Mantle, and stand in awe when I see those pinstripes. Can I still go to heaven?
So you must have gone to my nephews’ game!
At one of those games I heard a dad yell, “Hey ______ (his son)! How about if the ball comes near you, you don’t just stand there and you actually expend a little energy!!?” Funny thing was that the son gave him a thumbs-up in response!
Nice. And this is what I have to look forward to with a son?
I still love baseball.
Our son doesn’t play baseball but our daughter plays softball. I usually find myself sitting alone because, since she is the pitcher, I cannot stand to listen to the parents complain about her performance. The parents of the girls she spends all of her summer days with somehow turn ugly on her from the bleachers. I don’t think she hears most of it, but I certainly do. I am always amazed that these adults don’t seem to care who might be listening to their shallow, juvenile rants. When somebody asks if I get nervous when she starts pitching, I usually say “not for the reason you might think. I’m proud of her no matter what.”
Oh for the days when she was 5 and the girls hugged each other as the runner reached first base….
I want to do better, I really do. I’m going to try.
We watched some BABIES play T-ball Saturday. The little girl in left field NEVER paid attention to the game. She drew in the dirt and watched everything outside the fence. She looked like she had a good time. I guess that’s what matters.
“Except the Yankees.”
Bahahahahaha!
Made my day, right there.
Great topic today. You know that baseball is certainly not my favorite sport, but I have found myself a little sad these past few weeks, since both you and I have now turned the coaching of our kids over to professionals. My wife, son and I were just talking last night about how much fun we had the last two summers, and how we will miss going to Waco this summer.
I sure had fun the past two seasons. Can’t believe that I miss it as much as I do.
CS
Last night I experienced a lot of yelling and fussing as a coach. It really got out of hand.
It was my daughter’s t-ball game.
I wish they didn’t even keep score.
Thanks for the post.
Broadening out the topic a bit, it really is hard to think about how Christians should relate to excellence.
Competition, investment, giving 100%, and excellence are all great goods that I think Christians should pursue. The trouble is, those same pursuits lead to a great degree of caring are investment. And when we care and are invested so much it is hard to pursue kenosis (self-emptying), detachment (”do not lay up treasures on earth”), and kindness.
How to find the balance?
I love baseball, but not the Cardinals. (Go Cubs)
I remember getting a free snow cone for bringing a foul ball to the concession stand, getting beaned in the face (maybe that’s what’s wrong with me), Mr. Eddie (the old man who umpired every game I played until high school).
More about Mr. Eddie; Eddie Lewis was the Bill Cosby of our community. He was an older successful black man and spent lots of time giving to the community. He was a father figure to many of the young fatherless black boys in my generation. He ran the Eagle Scout program and was the baseball umpire. I remember stepping in and batting with him back there. He was such a nice and gentle man to me that I couldn’t imagine him calling a strike on me. But he did, and I got a taste of justice. As much as I wanted him to be nice, he was a bastion of integrity and he never let me down.
I’m coaching my T-ball again this year. Could there be any form of baseball that’s more pure? There are no steroids (unless you think “Sweet Tarts” are a bit questionable). There is no obsession with winning. And, somehow, everyone wins every game. Sweet, simple and untainted, that’s what t-ball is.
This past Monday evening Cooper, my six-year-old, had his very first T-ball game. He was SO excited. He told me, “Dad, playing T-ball is like being in heaven, this is awesome!”
It got me to thinking that maybe there are some similarities between Christianity, heaven and T-ball. Let see, in T-ball …
You don’t keep score.
You never get put out.
Strikes don’t count.
At the end, you always win.
Hanging out in heaven with Jesus will pretty much be the same.
Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and St. Louis Cardinals baseball (and Mizzou football) !!!
I used to agree with John Irving who said, “Baseball is a game with increasingly heightened anticipation of increasingly limited action.” I was busy playing summer league basketball. I’m now realizing that it was a simple matter of maturity. The older I get, the more I enjoy the pace of the game.
For this very reason “I hate going to my son’s minor league games!” Don’t get me wrong, I love watching him play, but the parents are unreal!!! He plays alot and loves it, but secretly I can’t wait for it to be over each and every game. I don’t see why any ump would want their job!!!
I seriously doubt they get paid enough to endure what they hear. It is my LEAST favorite sport to watch and I can’t wait for it to be over. Our league had to call parents to see if kids would play this year, because their numbers were down (yes, an Abilene league.).
Wonder why?
My husband coaches another sport for a living and I’m so thankful it’s not baseball!
I enjoyed your post, as I am not coaching this year after nine years of doing either baseball or softball. I recently posted something on my blog (onscreen-scientist.com/?p=18) about how I first got drawn into coaching: “Looking Back At a Rocky Little League Start.” I found coaching to be very rewarding despite some problems with parents and other coaches who thought we were in the major leagues, or at least the College World Series. The parents on my team were usually not a problem, though, so I think the coach sets the tone.
This year is the 20th anniversary of a great baseball (love story) movie, Bull Durham, starring Kevin Costner, Tim Robbins, Susan Sarandon, et al.
A week from Friday, I leave for Boston to join Steve Jr. and Chrissy for a Red Sox/Brewers match-up. Nothing like watching live MLB with your son and favorite daughter-in-law.
No baseball experience for me - but I have heard the horror stories. The absolute saddest statistic of youth baseball is the number of “Tommy John” reconstructive surgeries teen-age boys are having these days due to pea-brained coaches/dads teaching their 11 year old how to throw curveballs and such. The latest rule-of-thumb: nothing but straight fastballs until the kid starts shaving.
Our oldest played one year of softball - very exciting with 5 Megans on one team.
I loved when my girls played t-ball and then softball. They haven’t stuck with it unfortunately, but one of my favorite out of the many mommy-jobs through the years has been “dug-out mom”.
You sound like a wonderful coach!
I played football in a small West Texas town and now am a parent of a 11 year old girl premier soccer player in the Pacific Northwest. Its hard to tell the difference in intensity sometimes. But we are playing for mortgages so I guess that is how it is supposed to be.
I played T-Ball through softball for years as a kid. Then, even when I got older, I’d still play in the camper-counselor softball game at CRYC. I’m in no way an athlete, especially not anymore, but I loved the game. I still love watching — especially now that my 7 y/o nephew plays. He loves every minute.
And I’m with you on the Yankees.
My husband is the BEST coach I have ever seen. He teaches the boys to LOVE the game of baseball. Takes them to see the Tigers, gives them baseball cards to collect,asks them what games they have been watching,etc… He makes them love drills by making them yell out things like “who loves to run?”….”we love to run!”. They eat it up! In his six years of coaching L.L. he has had three championship teams and two second place teams….never had to raise his voice. Kids won’t play well if they hate the game! Yelling makes them hate the game.
When I was 5 my grandpa took me to Chavez Ravine to see the greatest left hand pitcher of all time (homer here). I was hooked and had season tickets for a few years in the late 70’s during the Cey, Russell, Lopes & Garvey infield years. Saturday i’ll be a Chavez Ravine getting a kitchen pass from Mom from our usually me fly out from Texas Mother’s Day Weekend. Tried to talk her into a Sunday matinée but she quit going to games after having to live in minor league towns like Allentown & Houston when my dad played.
Favorite advice: sooner or later your going to have to swing at it so you might as well do it now and get it out of the way.
Since I coach for a living, would you please stand up and tell that dad to “get up or shut up!” I understand your profession might not allow you to do so, but the coaches of the world appreciate parents like you.
Mike,
Don’t know if you’ve seen this yet, but thought you’d appreciate it, especially timely for this post.
J
http://sports.espn.go.com/broadband/video/videopage?videoId=3380875
Mike - I’m on the other end of the spectrum having just a couple of weeks ago, watched my son play his last High School Baseball game. He is now trying to play a the next level and in fact, has a tryout at Oklahoma Christian the weekend of May 16.
My mantra for him as a power-hitting Second Baseman, “Middle / Backside.”
Great Post! I love the smell of baseball. When I was a kid, I would constantly stick my face in my glove and take in a long breath of that soft leather. Even now, that smell takes me back to those afternoons warming up with my dad or standing under the lights of the stadium watching the bats chase the bugs. My favorite baseball movie: The Natural.
I’m in my fourth year of coaching my son. Last year, his last year of tee-ball, he almost quit the game forever, because of me. Fortunately, God gave us both a second chance, and a fresh perspective on what the game should be.
I see lots of terrible behavior at games, and it all comes from the adults. My experience tells me that the parents will follow the lead of the coach– if the coach rides the umpires, so will the parents. If the coach loves and encourages the kids, so will the parents. And if the coach does not lead, then the parents will follow the lead of whoever in the stands is the loudest, for better or worse.
Don’t beat a team 17-1 when 10-1 will do.