Last Saturday, my son's fall Little League team playedtheir second game of the season. Firstpitch was at high noon. The temperaturewas 106 degrees.
San Diego has had an unusually humid summer (which is tosay we've actually had measurable humidity). And, while I'll stop short of comparing the recent Southern Californiaclimate to, say, St. Louis or central Florida, 60% humidity still kinda sucks. We received a two or three-day reprieve fromthe steaminess last weekend...only to see it replaced by hot, dry Santa Ana winds -- a good six weeksahead of their usual inconvenient ETA.
My kids were expected to play six innings -- possibly upto two-and-a-half hours -- under these conditions. Through relatively recent personalexperience, I could relate. In August2007, I spent a few days in Orlando attending a conference at the DisneyworldConvention Center complex. On my firstday, I arrived late and was forced to walk almost 100 yards acrossthe asphalt parking lot while nattily attired in my four-button black suit -- elegantlyaccentuated with a buttercream-colored dress shirt and black n' butterscotchtie. It was 9:30 AM and already 930degrees.
With that in mind, I loaded up my largest cooler withfour dozen small bottles of water and limited the kids to a 30-minute pregamewarm-up. Now, that mightsound excessive for eight and nine-year-olds, but you shouldknow that I didn't punish ANY of the kids who made the obvious "Warmups? I think we're already warm enough,coach" joke before we started.
In the bottom of the first inning, we exploded for fiveruns. I was coaching third base when myclean-up hitter arrived at the bag, moving from first to third on asingle. His breathing seemed a bitlabored and the glassiness in his eyes was a touch shy of terrifying. The look on his face reminded me of... Robin?
Me: "Raymond, are you OK?"
Raymond: "..."
Me: "Raymond, look at me. Do you need to come out?"
Raymond: "..."
Me: "TIME! Go to the dugout, get some water and takea break. I'll get a pinch..."
Jalen: [from the first base dugout] "CAN I PINCH-RUNFOR RAYMOND, DAD?! I'M HYDRATED!"
In the second inning, we scored four more runs and took a9-0 lead into the top of the third. Ihanded the ball to my son Jalen. We'reusing the fall season to work on mixing his pitches -- a work-in-progressfour-seam fastball and a change-up that he's much more comfortable with. He recorded an early strikeout with twofastballs and an 0-2 change-up, but walked two batters who moved up to secondand third on a wild pitch.
A second wild pitch scored the first run for ouropponents and when our catcher slowly loafed after the ball -- with Jalenracing to cover home plate, squeakily screaming "HOME! HOME! HOME!"-- J lit into him on the field in front of everyone.
Jalen's tightly-wound intensity is a bit of a mixed bagfor me. On the one hand, he's not themost physically gifted eight-year-old athlete, but he makes up most of thedifference with his competitiveness. After every game, other parents approach me with compliments for myson's textbook sliding technique or his hustle down the first base line or evenhis failed attempts to fight back tears after an especially tough loss. ("Iwish MY kid cared that much!")
On the other hand, the overwhelming majority of the kidsdon't care about the game's outcome as much as my son. There's a time and a place (and an age) foradministering verbal beatdowns masked as constructive criticism. I don't know when or where (or how old) thatis, but I'm reasonably sure this isn't it. I call "time" and slowly exit the dugout. I'm not happy. I remove my tacky wrap-aroundsunglasses and dramatically flick the shades slightly skyward. So that I catch Jalen's eye, yes, I'm channelingthe melodramatic effect of Randy "Macho Man" Savage. (Skip to the 2:40 mark of this clip to see what I mean.) When I reach the mound, I bend at the waistand look Jalen in the eye:
Me: "Knock. It. Off. You CANNOT show up your teammates on thefield like that."
Jalen: "But, we lost the shutout because of..."
Me: "We're a team, J. We win as a team, we lose as a team. Make your pitches, get out of this inning andrespect the guys behind you."
Jalen: "OK. Should I say 'I'm sorry' toGarrett?"
Me: "After the inning's over."
Jalen: "Does that run count against my ERA if it wasa passed ball and not a wild pitch?"
Me: "..."
After 3 1/2 innings, we led 14-2. According to Little League Baseball rules,the game is over if one team leads by 10 or more runs. And, it was 106degrees. After discussing thiswith the 13-year-old umpire, he visited the opposing dugout and came back witha surprising declaration:
"The other team wants to keep playing. There's no 'mercy rule' unless both managersagree."
I was incredulous. And, possibly apoplectic -- on the inside. But, definitely incredulous. "He really wants to keep playing?",I asked...incredulously. "Yup", replied the ump. "He said it's a good workout forhis kids." Never mind that two ofhis kids went home mid-game because of the heat. He wants a "workout" for the kidswho are still standing.
I'm not entirely proud of how I managed the bottom of thefourth inning -- flashing the "steal" and "double steal"signs to my kids while up by a dozen runs -- but, it was inconceivable that anyadult would want to subject children to these climactic conditions by choice. Of course, I could've been influenced by oneof my players (not my son!) who exclaimed, "Let's make 'em wish they gaveup!" The other team waived thewhite flag after we scored our fifth run of the inning and 19th run of thegame.
Maybe I should look in the mirror before my next MachoMan moment.
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