Running from...

I'm still running.>>

Lost sight of where I was running too for a couple of weeks but I've got my feet moving in the right direction again.>>

My son, Mr. C, played in his little league all star game last night and I'm afraid my contempt for the local little league program resulted in him getting the short end of the bat.>>

I'm a big believer in the power of competition.  I believe its healthy and a key component to the development of a persons character.  Those who are learn to handle victory with grace, and work through defeat are better off than those who lives are sheltered and protected from such challenges.>>

Which is why my wife and I both insist that our kids do "something".  For Fuzzy Cookie, this is softball and swim.  For Mr. C, its baseball, swim, soccer, and Kung Fu.  For the oldest its soccer, swim, and she's started training for cross country.>>

Sadly, little league baseball...>>

Is something that should be ran from.  They've washed the competition out of it.  They've taken it, transformed it from a sport into a sewing circle.>>

Each player is a unique little snowflake that can do no wrong.  Coaches are nursemaids there to baby-sit the players.  The league seems to exist to castrate and emasculate out of a sadistic sense of fairness.>>

Scores aren't kept.  Standings aren't recorded. Players are punished for cheering and chatter.  Everyone bats.  Everyone plays, and if this means 14 players are on the field at once...well...what do rules really matter?>>

Good players are punished.  Bad players are rewarded.  Homeruns are held to doubles. There are no strikes, only seven pitched balls and even if you go down swinging you get to take your base.>>

There is no impetus to improve.  No reward for doing well, and no punishments for failure.>>

Win/Lose what does it matter?  As long as you have fun, right?>>

As the season progressed, I became increasingly vocal in my distaste for this style of play.  And things boiled over in the week of practices leading up to the All Star Game.>>

Oh, and All Star is a bit of a misleading term.  Very few of the players selected to the All Star team were actual all stars.  Instead, they were simply the two oldest kids from each team, and were the most likely to move up to the next level of play next year.  Play didn't factor into it.>>

Mr. C was asked to pitch at the All Star game.  He'd never pitched before so I spent the last two weeks of the season working with him, and he was soon throwing more strikes than balls.>>

Not many more, but what can you reasonably expect for an eight year old who's never pitched before?>>

At the first all star practice, the coaches and parents sat down and put together the rules of play.  One of the coaches, a vocal pot bellied man decided that he didn't want a "walk fest" and so the pitchers would only be allowed to walk two players and inning, after that the coach would take over all pitching duties.>>

I was floored.  In all likelihood this means each pitcher would be throwing 12 pitches an inning and then be booted off the mound by his coach.  The coach would then pitch until the player struck out.>>

It struck me as showing a lack of confidence in the players selected to pitch.>>

Rather than biting back my commentary I charged the mound and let loose.>>

Why not follow my seven year old daughters softball model.  Let the player pitch and on the forth ball have the coach come out to pitch until the player either hit or stuck out (either by swinging or by called strikes).>>

The comments quickly became acidic.>>

In the end a reasonable compromise was reached.  The pitcher could walk two players (either through balls or hitting them with pitches), after that he'd continue to pitch, but on the fourth ball the coach would come out and pitch to the player until he struck out or hit.>>

The coach was furious, but I shrugged it off.  It was a fair compromise.  It punished the pitchers for bad pitches but still gave them a chance to pitch.  Rewarded the batters for waiting for good pitches.>>

Other issues cropped up, petty, ugly, stupid things that never should have even been a question.  Again, I refused to hold my tongue and was eventually asked to leave the infield.  I grabbed Fuzzy Cookie and we went off to play some one on one softball while the coaches meeting continued.>>

Mr. C of course was assigned to this coaches team.  The result was that he didn't pitch.  Didn't play any of the positions he played all year (first base,  catcher, or short stop) and spent a great deal of time in the outfield waiting for something...anything to happen.>>

He batted well enough, being walked once, hitting for a single (off the player pitcher), and striking out once in three at-bats.  Compared with the other all stars, this was a stellar plate appearance.  His team lost the game 4-3 when in the bottom of the fourth (with Mr. C on the bench) a batter from the other team ripped a tree run triple past the second baseman.

Posted by: Running From the Past at 08:51 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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