I look out my window that faces Gallagher Park in Lynn and what do I see? I see a parade of little kids in pro-style baseball uniforms that are three sizes too big, dragging bats as big as they are, and wearing hats that hide their eyes.
It must be Little League season again.
I’ve had a love-hate relationship with Little League for as long as I can remember. I’ve seen it from a distance while covering it, and I’ve been in the thick of it too as a manager and league official. It’s a marvelous concept, of course. Teach kids not only how to play the game, but how to love it as well.
But it often seems to be a failure of execution.
Baseball is harder to teach, and harder to master than other sports. It takes longer to develop specific skills, and to perfect them takes a lot of drills that can be repetitive and, well, BORING. On the other hand, if you’re looking for more activity, you could be running around waving a lacrosse stick in the air.
Sad to say, Little League around here is shrinking. Lynn, which once had seven separate leagues, is down to three. Saugus has merged from two to one, and Peabody from three to two. Revere, which once had two, doesn’t have any.
It’s too bad. All that does, in the long run, is give kids less of a chance to play. That means less kids are learning the game, and more are walking away from it.
Then again, it’s tough to explain to a 10-year-old that baseball is a generational sport that’s been passed down from venerable ancestors, and that it has made history important enough to become part of the country’s legacy. All they know is, “What? More grounders?”
And for a game that can be so hard to teach and master, too many parents seem to think they know it all, especially if “all” involves their kids. Personally, I could take the periodic 21-2 drubbings, and the crushing losses when some poor child booted one to let in the winning run. But I wanted to run away and hide when some father came charging up to me asking, “How come you don’t let my kid pitch?”
Hmmmm. Maybe because your kid can’t reach the plate? There’s no diplomatic way to say that.
Then there are those who ask why their kids are hitting ninth and not cleanup. Or how come their kid, a “natural” shortstop, is in right field.
There are answers to these questions, but be nice if you want to maintain civil relations. They are: 1) because your kid strikes out every time he gets up; and 2) he hasn’t picked up a ground ball cleanly since the season started.
Well, he’s never going to be able to do it if you don’t give him a chance.
Sir, that’s why we have practice. Maybe your kid could attend once in a while?
And what about the star player who throws BBs that no one else can touch? He’s everyone’s favorite player. He’s a jerk and a bully, but adults kowtow to him nonetheless. In 10 years, he’ll be Rafael Devers refusing to play first base.
That’s the downside. But oh, there’s an upside too.
Kids may not be fully aware of it, but it’s there. They’re outdoors, where the Lord intended them to be on beautiful spring afternoons. Even if it’s being pounded into them, they’re learning skills that demand commitment and coordination. If they can get past the one or two “grown-ups” who draw attention to themselves, they learn the value of giving back in a meaningful way. To see a 9-year-old’s face light up in a smile after getting a hit is worth all the other stuff, any day.
And that’s it. It’s the little things, or seemingly little things, that make all the difference sometimes. Once, we had a player who knew the only way he was going to get into an All-Star game was to pinch run. He wasn’t sure he wanted to give up his summer just for that, but he stuck it out. Sure enough, we put him in on first base in the bottom of the seventh inning of a tie game. The next kid hit a double and this boy raced all the way around the bases and beat the throw home to score the winning run. Kids were jumping on him to beat the band. He loved it.
So did I.
