Baseball ruled in little league sports back in Grenada of the 1970’s. Once a year we all showed up at the high school stadium for the “Punt, Pass and Kick” competition but in little league it was baseball.
Coach Wayne Carson ran the little league program for years and years. We sold Drix as the annual fundraiser for the little league… Drix was some kind of cleaning detergent and every household in Grenada would have several bottles due to the salesmanship of the town’s first graders.
The season always kicked off with a hotdog supper at the ball field. I believe each hot dog was a dime. The bleachers would be full of hot dog eating kids with ketchup stained shirts and mouths.
I was on the Cubs and we were sponsored by Piggly Wiggly… it was right there on the back of our black with white sleeved t-shirts.
This wasn’t T-ball. We had pitchers, played a full 7 innings with no maximum run rules. So, the score might end up being 32 – 28 and none of us first graders ever really hit the ball… four balls and a walk… over and over and over.
Our coaches were a few years older… junior high guys. And I will not name any coaches in order to protect any who may be innocent of what I’m about to say. These guys were out for blood. They wanted to win. They’d throw score books in the dugout, fight with the umpire and encourage us to lean into the ball… as in lean in and get hit and take a base!
I always wanted to be a coach after that.
Our parents and siblings would all attend. We played mainly on the baseball field between the high school football field and Jones Road. Today, the massive Grenada High School Band Hall sits where this legendary field of dreams once belonged.
In reality, I didn’t care much for playing. It was so bad that my parents had to promise me a hamburger and fries after each game to make me participate. After every game we’d head over to a restaurant called Rudolph’s just down from the Monte Cristo on highway 51.
But in the rear view mirror these games were the stuff of legend. We’d play teams like the Comets. Stephen Cox was their star pitcher… it’s easy to remember because he was so tall, even then.
We’d sit in the dugout chanting “Comets make me vomit.” We’d hustle onto the field and with each batter chant “nanananananananana swing!!!” And this would go on for 7 innings while each player walked.
Our parents would yell and cheer. Dean Morgan’s dad, Jerry, would always lean on the fence near where we would warm up in the batter’s box. He’d smile and offer advice… “keep your eye on the ball… swing level… don’t listen to the hind catcher.” It was important to not listen to the hind catcher because he’d be telling each batter how terrible there were.
We practiced every Saturday morning. We kept score, maintained the win-loss record and had season champions. We competed.
Little League Soccer, Washington, DC, 2008:
This past Saturday my first grader played in his third soccer game of his first season of league play. He plays on the Cougars from Murch School. They were playing the Power Rangers… school unknown (to me, a
nyway.)
He has a wonderful coach who is always very happy. It’s a cheerful sort of endeavor.
They play an hour, no one really keeps score and there is no accounting of wins and losses.
I’m inclined to scream “hit somebody” at various stressful moments of the game. I do know hitting is discouraged in soccer, but it just comes out. When I scream the other parents will look at me. The coach will look at me.
In fact, it’s been shared with me that yelling and cheering at little league soccer is largely discouraged. The young co-ed team is focused on developing their motor skills and concentration skills… this is the logic, I think.
I’d hate to see Jerry Morgan or Ray Carroll told they shouldn’t get loud during a game.
There are snacks after each game… parents take turns and its usually a juice box, some fruit and some kind of organic cracker or cookie. No hamburgers and fries from Rudolph’s.
I’m often reminded of Gaylord’s “wall of mediocrity” in the movie “Meet the Fockers” when I’m at soccer games… it just seems so sterile.
My son, though, has a blast. And it’s not just because he’s the best player on the team… one of the best in the league based on my observations.
He loves playing… we have not had to bribe him with a hamburger. His best friend on the team is Ava. There were no Ava’s on the Cubs… but Ava is a mighty fine athlete and contributes more than most.
I’d just like to see some score keeping and win – loss columns… some coaches out to win… some parents getting down right serious… some players rallying with chants on the sidelines…
Hell, I’d settle for a good Drix fundraising campaign and a 10 cent hotdog.
But here’s the truth… my boys have great opportunities in sports… and, all joking aside, I’m sure allowing them to focus on their skills and concentration is a very good thing… I’m even sure the coach is onto something by being so happy…
But I really like yelling “just hit someone” every once in a while… yes, I know its soccer.
And I wish my sons could have experienced my little league…
(Note: That's Will and Ava and my younger son, Pete, in the photo)
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5 comments:
LOL oh how I remember mom and dad dragging me to your games. I had other things I wanted to do but noooooo I had to go see Burns play and we would do some politicing while there as well. :) I did enjoy my hotdog and laffy taffy from the consession stand.
This made me cry ...good tears :)
Hey man. Great story. As you are probably aware, I was too skiddish to play baseball or most any other sport, except basketball. That didn't last long either. There weren't enough hamburgers and fries at Rudolph's to entice me to enter a baseball field. When I went it was to watch Cade with Pattie and Paul. Usually to make sure that Cade didn't beat the crap out of someone or get the crap beat out of him (by someone like Rusty Bailey) after the game was over. Today, Pattie would be the one asked to leave because she was "too loud". She still is!!
I remember after Cade started playing at the new field. His game was almost over and you came to his field and asked me to stay and watch your Mom play softball. I remember sitting in the stands watching Miss Ada, pitch, bat, field, and run. It was late and the bugs were flying around the lights that Paul had put up for the field. The air was filled with dust and it seemed to hang under the lights. I don't remember who won. I do remember Miss Ada though. She played her heart and and had the best time. I had fun too. I thought she was Super Woman. She could play softball and drive a Crown Vic aka SO 2 all the way to Oxford at 95 mph. Those were the days my friend, those were the days.
Oh, yes ... brings back memories of my older sons (now 20 and 18) playing ball. I remember well how I would cringe when my oldest would come up to bat because he would "lean in" so he could get a base.
Great stuff Burns!! Oh how I remember those days. We grew up in such a special place and a special time. Keep it coming.
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