I watched my son playing a Pee Wee baseball game the other day. First, I will say that little league baseball is not taken anywhere nearly as seriously as it was in New York. In NY, my kindergarten aged son had many practices and they were drilled about the positions they were to play and how to cover a base, etc. etc. etc. Now that same son, going in to 3rd grade, is on a field where the entire field starts to converge on a hit ball. They still have a college-aged student pitching and a college-aged student catching (in NY t-ball we had kids putting on catcher's gear!).
My second thought was much more wistful. In his heart, my son is Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Hank Aaron, Rod Carew, and Harmon Killebrew all rolled in to one. He is the greatest baseball player ever. In reality, he is his dad. He is one of the weaker players on the team. He might swing eight times before he connects with the ball (and here in S.E. Minnesota, that is okay).
As a father, it's hard to watch a child start to realize that not all dreams will be fulfilled. I can see in his eyes that he is making the connection ... other kids hit better and farther...other kids aren't afraid of the ball when it's hit toward them...other kids throw farther and harder and maybe a little more accurately.
This is the hard part of parenting...when you're helpless. When there is nothing you can do for your child. He will make these discoveries on his own, but at this time, he's still young enough that he believes everything is possible (and I agree, it is), and he believes it is all possible for himself.
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I don't know if you'll remember this, but I played little league baseball one year when I was about ten. Going in, I thought I was going to be great; I wanted to bat clean-up. I had played baseball in my backyard almost nightly with the neighborhood kids and my family would often go down to the park on a Saturday or Sunday and we'd all take turns batting and fielding. My favorite moments were when my dad would "bat flies" to us. I enjoyed this much more than hitting myself. I liked fielding. And I was totally impressed that my dad could hit the ball wherever he wanted to. He would just toss it up in the air and bat it, but he could send it directly to us if he wanted to.
My little league experience was a disaster. The other guys could all play thousands of times better than I. They hit hard, played hard, and threw hard. I couldn't even see the ball coming when I batted. I'd never experienced baseball on this level before. I batted ninth every game, and the only reason I played at all was that we only had nine guys on our team. I played right field, and we all know, you put your worst guy in right field. In every at bat for the season, I either struck out or walked, except for one time when I was hit by a pitch (by Scott Ender, who eventually ended up playing minor league ball; I hoped he'd get into the majors, so I'd have a better story to tell, but he never did). I never once made contact with the bat on the ball, even to hit a foul ball. Our team won two games all season, one by a forfeit when the other team didn't have enough players, and the last game of the season, when I was so discouraged that I decided not to even go.
Thus ended my baseball career.
I am impressed that your son knows Rod Carew and Hank Aaron, though.
I'm actually quite surprised that little league ball isn't played so seriously here. Our high school boys were state champions in football, and 2nd place in both basketball and baseball this year. Obviously sports play a major role in life in this rural town. Certainly I'm glad to see that it's so competitive yet. (As an aside, my kindergartener last year was involved in wrestling! Again, it was made to be fun, and he enjoyed it.)
Kootch...I did not know that story, but I'd say it's somewhat similar to what I see happening with J.D. We bat, we throw (he's actually got a very good arm, very straight and accurate throws)and he feels good about himself. But when we get to the field with the other boys.... I tell him my story...
In three years of little league in Winona... I got exactly ONE hit. I even got on base and got batted in eventually. The only up side to my story is that I was always the smallest kid my age untl high school, so in little league, I didn't have to hit as I got walked a lot. Small strike zone, you know.
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