Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Unpublished Work

This is from a book I've been writing on and off (mainly off) since 2005 called The Umpire Has A Mullet. This is about the early years of Rec League baseball.

Chapter Five: Tee-Ball & Coach Pitch- Your child’s First Steps To The Majors or Psychoanalysis.


Your child’s first meeting with the coach of his team will go something like this: The coach will call the kids and the parents together. The kids will sit on their knees in front of the coach with the parents behind them. The coach will say something like this:

Um, hey, I’m Coach Bob and this is Coach Steve. And, um, I’m the coach of the Tigers. Is this where everyone’s suppose to be? Anyway, we are going to have a lot of fun and learn a lot about baseball, which is really cool game. Tater! Would you sit down and shut up! Um, sorry, that’s my son Tater. We need a team sponsor, this costs usually about $200. I would sponsor it myself, but I just lost my job last week. Tater! Put that bat down before you kill somebody!  Anyway, I cain’t do it and Coach Steve is going through a real nasty divorce. By the way, if you have a sister or know somebody for Coach Steve, bring her to the park. If she has a kid that can hit, that’ll be good too.

We’re here to have fun. The way we have fun is to win games. I have two rules: Have fun and win games. TATER, FOR THE LAST TIME ,IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I’M GOING TO PUT GASOLINE ON YOUR PLAYSTATION AND BLOW’D IT UP.

Mah wife, Coach Vicky, is the team Mom.She is going to pass around the snack list. Also, we got to work the Concession Stand on Easter and Mother’s Day. Any questions?

After this rousing speech, Coach Bob and Coach Steve run the kids through some drills to assess the talent level of the kids. Supposedly, this was done during the skills assessement but, Coach Bob and Steve only remember that it was cold as a witch's, um, you know, and all of the kids became one big six year old blur.
The kids, talent-wise, at ages five-seven, breakdown into two groups.

One group: The hyperactive.

Other group: The rather be at home watching cartoons.

For some odd reason, the hyperactive tend to do better at baseball at this age, even though, baseball can be at times the polar opposite of hyper. This group of kids will always be moving. On the base, in the dugout, in the field. Motion,motion,motion.

The cartoon group tends to be the ones the coaches yell at the most in non-disciplinary fashion. These kids are looking up at the sky, kicking dirt, and asking to go to the bathroom because they drank a gallon of Gatorade before the game because Mom thought the little darlin’ might dehydrate standing in a field of grass fifty feet from her.

Some parks play T-ball. A ball is placed on a tee and the kid hits it. After the kids hits it, he waits for an adult to yell, “RUN”, unless, of course, he is part of the hyperactive group that when it was his turn at bat just immediately runs to first base.

Once the ball is hit, it begins to look something like baseball, if baseball is played by people barely out of their diapers and mostly interested in a dirt piles. Usually, the catcher, who is in full catcher’s gear, chases the ball, no matter where it is hit, even it is a foul ball into the parking lot.

Probably the safest position for your kid to play during this age group is catcher. Most parks requires that a kid wear a catcher’s mask,vest, and shin guards. And kids love to play it. My son, Ben, loved playing catcher. The first time a coach let into catch, he helped Ben on with the equipment. When Ben put on the mask, the coach said Ben started to breath heavily and say, "LUKE, I AM YOUR FATHER”.

One time, I was helping out with a team that had a set of twins and one of the twins came up to me and asked if he could catch. I told him to ask the coach. He asked the coach who said sure. The time for him to go on the field came and I grabbed him and began putting his gear on. I got him all dressed until I heard, “Hey I was suppose to catch!”. I dressed the wrong twin.

One thing about putting a six year old in catcher’s gear. The kid does not move and he does not help you. The mask and vest are no problems. But for some reason, it is a chore to put on shin guards on a six year old. One time, my wife was helping in the dugout. Usually, my wife stayed out of the dugout because it was much more interesting talking to the other moms then it is to watch the game. At this particular game, Lori was helping out, putting on the catcher’s gear on this little boy who decided to take up chewing sun flower seeds at this time. When Lori got down to do the boy’s shin guards, he began spitting sunflower seeds into my wife’s hair. Which, if you know my wife, is a particularly dangerous thing to do. I’ve been married to her for years, and I wouldn’t even dream of spitting sunflower seeds into her hair, even if an article in men’s magazine said so (“Drive Her Wild In Bed By Spitting Sunflower Seeds Into Her Hair: Adds Two Additional Minutes to Lovemaking”)

The games for t-ball can get intense, particularly since there’s usually twenty to a team which means each kid’s parents and grandparents come to the game to cheer.

Actually, they come to yell. Usually they yell useful instructions like ‘THROW THE BALL”.

I have notice this interesting phenomenon. When you yell “THROW THE BALL” to a six year old boy, your words go through the air, bouncing off of other “THROW THE BALL” molecules and enters the kid’s ear as, “HOLD THE BALL”. Sometimes, it enters as “HOLD THE BALL WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN” or “HOLD THE BALL AND LOOK ALL AROUND YOU LIKE SOMEONE IS THROWING GRENADES AT YOU”. Still, “HOLD THE BALL” is all he hears.

Conversely, When you yell “HOLD THE BALL” OR “DON’T THROW THE BALL”, the kid hears, ‘THROW THE BALL WITH ALL OF YOUR MIGHTY SIX YEAR OLD MIGHT AND DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE DIRECTION OF THE BALL. THROW IT BACKWARDS IF YOU WANT TO OR THROW OVER EVERYBODY’S HEAD AND THE BACKSTOP.”

Also “RUN” means stop and “NO DON’T RUN YOU BRAT” means run. “TAG HIM” means look at the boy with your mouth open. “CATCH IT” means run away from the ball crying at the top of your lungs.

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