Sunday, April 14, 2013

It's probably a good thing I'm not a parent



I went to my nephew’s baseball game yesterday.  He’s seven.   And by the time it was over, I was pretty sure that if I ever had kids, I would be a terrible parent, because I wouldn’t let my kids play sports!

Let’s start with uniforms.  Both teams looked far better than the 1984 Oelwein Huskies (of Ed Baldwin fame).  Every kid was dressed to the nines, complete uniforms head to toe.  They all had cleats, and I’m not sure why.  There’s not much movement in seven-year-old baseball, let alone movement that would require cleats.  Most also had a gear bag that included their own aluminum bat.  Ballin’!

As I watched, I could only think that these kids are learning baseball from adults that do nothing but watch the New York Yankees on TV.  Some of the stuff that they have obviously “learned” already have no place in an age bracket where the focus should be hustling on and off the field. 

The changeovers were about five minutes long.  Some of that is understandable I guess, since the catchers had to trade the 30 lbs of gear that would have protected them from being hurt by 90+ mph fastballs.  I felt sorry for those suckers – they could barely stand up!  One of the kids playing catcher was so weighed down by the equipment that when he tried to throw the ball back to the pitcher, the ball would land about six feet in front of home plate.  But back to the changeover… I guess every changeover is a “coaching opportunity” or something along those lines.  Or maybe it was time to allow the network to show commercials, kind of like a TV timeout.  It took FOR-EV-ER.  I just remember learning in Pee Wee league that you hustled out on to the field and you hustled in immediately after the third out.  I don’t think anyone cares about that much anymore.

One of the pitchers was cracking me up.  He had an entire routine, as if he was Nolan Ryan storming back and forth to the mound after every pitch.  He would throw a pitch, walk halfway up to home plate (shaking his head when it wasn’t a strike), get the ball, then saunter back with a pattern of alternating between touching the brim of his hat and punching his fist into his glove.  Hilarious.  Where did he learn this stuff?

Most of the batters weren’t much better.  They all seemed to have little routines that they would go through a few feet away from the batter’s box.  Then they would step into the box, dig in, and wait for the pitch.  Keep in mind that these are seven-year-olds.  Perhaps the worst part of it all is that 90% of the pitches are either eight feet in the air, three feet behind the batter, or are rolling in the dirt ten feet before the plate.  Why are seven-year-olds playing “fast pitch” baseball??

I’m not sure why they pitched at all.  The kids would pitch until either the batter hit the ball or struck out.  If he threw four balls (which the pitcher did EVERY time) then the coach would pitch three (overhand) pitches.  At that point, either the batter had to hit one of the three pitches or he was out.  During the entire three-inning game (which took nearly two hours) no batter ever hit a pitch when a child was pitching.  Not once.  Why aren’t these kids hitting off tees, or at a minimum, hitting an underhand pitch from an adult?  In fact, I could make the argument that there wasn’t much baseball played at all during those couple of hours.  It’s mostly kids just standing around.  Oh wait.  Maybe it IS like real baseball!

Some of the funnier stuff that just made me roll the eyes were all the kids with black eye makeup (ala Bryce Harper), the “announcers” on the loudspeakers that introduced the batters (that happened to be little girls), the live scoreboard in the outfield, and the coaches screaming at kids to pay attention in the outfield even though “I know it’s boring out there.”
 
I just wouldn’t have the patience for it.  There’s not much fun in it, at least I didn’t notice too many kids having that much fun, although the parents were sure into it!  I think the best part for the kids was the free slurpee at the concession stand after the game (they all raced to get there).
 
I’d rather teach my kids to play three-base with the neighbor kids.

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