Last night, I stopped on the way home to watch Nate play in the Little League All-Star tournament. It’s his team’s third game, and they faced the other team in the tournament that was undefeated. We got to see two victories over the weekend, but it wasn’t looking all that great today. The other team leaped out to a three-run lead and kept the lead through most of the game. There were a few errors that made Aunt Meryl hide her head in her hands so she wouldn’t have to see the other team score.
And then came the moment Nate’s team was waiting for. Or maybe the moment we were waiting for. Nate’s team battled back several times, finally tying it up in the fifth. And up came Nate to the plate. Bam! He knocked in the winning run, his teammates padded the lead, they held it in the sixth, and game over.
I haven’t got any baseball pictures. For those, you need to go over to Sarah’s blog. But it sure was nice seeing the boys battle back from behind, and then beat the toughest team in the tournament. Thursday’s game is going to be a denoument. Friday’s game, however, will be a rematch between the two. Now that will be interesting.
Regarding my post about whether or not I can call myself a Southerner yet: I think not. There was a point in the game when the boys were still trying to come from behind. The umpire made a lousy call against Nate’s team. It happens. One of the coaches—a rather young man—had to sit out the game because they’re apparently only allowed two coaches at a time by the league. He and his buddy, who had been coaching the game long-distance the entire time (and second-guessing enough for six Monday Morning Quarterbacks) started yelling at the umps. I stayed quiet for about two or three insults, then I turned and said, “Pissing off the umpires is not a very good idea.” They tried to argue. I went all NJ on their asses, because I am not a parent, nor related to the coach (Sarah’s husband Larry is the coach), and have never had any trouble expressing myself when I think a wrong is being committed. Even better, a couple of the parents chimed in to back me up. The young men decided that perhaps they should stop harassing the umpires, especially when it was pointed out to them that this was the umpire that threw out the other team’s manager on Sunday when he misbehaved.
You know, I get that you get annoyed at a lousy call. But bad calls happen. For both teams. I think at this level, you get one “WHAT?!” moment, and then you shut up. And if you don’t, well—I really have to learn how a southern woman would have handled that, and try it that way next time.
Leaving aside the fact that browning off the umpire is not a tactic likely to produce success on the field, Meryl, for the love of Pete and Columbus, these are children. It’s not clear how old Nate and his teammates are, but they’re children. No money is dependent on the game, nor are they likely to look back when they’re on their deathbeds and lament that lost game back in 2009.
The cliche is that sports build character and if so–I tend to think it’s more a matter of revealing than building character–the children need to learn how to cooperate for a common goal, work to build their skills, etc. What possible point is served by adults yelling at some young man who is trying to give the kids a structured way to play?
I have always been grateful for the system we had back in Oak Park, Michigan, long ago. It was not affiliated with the official Little League. They put the applications out in the schools, first come first rostered, teams organized by neighborhood, and as players dropped out new ones came off the waiting list in order. Everyone got a chance to play–there’s no way I would have otherwise–and could be resubstituted once.
And no tournaments. One year Lincoln Drugs, without any thanks to me, tied for the league lead. We got together at a schoolyard for a playoff but it was entirely unofficial; coaches and umpires not there, we were not allowed to use league-provided equipment, etc.
So the problems and stresses that seem to be endemic elsewhere, the screaming parents the inordiante pressure on twelve year olds, the coaches trying to re-live their pasts, and so forth, we never saw. It was the same with basketball. Teams were organized the same way, everyone had to play at least a quarter, very low-key, and as far as I know everyone had a chance to play in a structured environment and had fun. That seemed to be the league’s point.
By the way, if anyone is interested, I played basketball for two years on a team called the Lakers and my scoring average was two points–per season.
Steel Magnolia
Calmly, gently tell the idiots to shut up.
Probably about the same way you did except with a bunch more “God Bless You”s, that’s southern-woman-ese for “You sure are stupid”.
Alex, yeah, I know. Most of the time, the parents and various relatives and coaches are pretty reasonable. The manager that got thrown out on Sunday was a total asshole. His team was leading four-zip in the beginning, and Nate’s team turned it around and proceeded to slaughter them with a total of 22 runs. In the last inning, when the game was just about over, the manager loudly protested a call, got warned, started acting like an ass, actually BLAMED THE KID for screwing up, then got thrown out of the game. Several parents and the other coach apologized to Larry for their manager’s behavior.
Thankfully, I’ve only seen a couple of instances like that.
I’ve never seen Larry yell at any of his kids. He yelled at me, once, because I was saying things that were distressing Max and not realizing how much he was bothered. So that’s, hm, once in seven years I’ve seen him annoyed. And it wasn’t even a raised voice, just a very firm notice that I was bothering his son and he wanted me to stop. (Scared me, boy. Larry NEVER yells.)
Kol ha-kavod to Nate!
People need to get a grip. Little League baseball is a game, not a life-and-death matter. (For all that, so is MLB, but that’s a whole ‘nuther issue.) I would have enjoyed being there to hear the smackdown you administered. Last I checked, there is no “bashful” in Yourish… because otherwise, it’d be Yourbashfulish.