To Every (Baseball) Season

Wow.

What a day of learning.  For J.P. and for me.

The WNSL (West Nashville Sports League) Dodgers 6U All Stars went 1-1, losing our first game and winning our second game in Bellevue in this weekend's "Weekend Warmup" Tournament.

So much happened, or so it seems, in three hours of baseball.  I could write a book, or, at least, a chapter in a book, about what I learned and what J.P. learned (I hope) from today's games.  Very, very eventful.

J.P. got upset and, yes, cried, during both games (he wasn't the only one, as two or three others cried at some point, too).  I had hoped that wouldn't happen, although I suspected it would.  What did he get upset about?  Well, let's see.  There was not getting to play catcher when he wanted to, getting called out for running out of the baseline (borderline call that made me want to cry, too), having a kid slide into him when he was playing third base and trying to apply a tag (actually a good, hard baseball play) and when we lost the first game.

Understand, I wasn't disappointed that J.P. go upset and cried.  That's part of what I think he needed to experience, because there were times when he was forced out at second or third base and did not cry as he left the field and trotted to the dugout.  There were also times when he missed balls and did not cry, although I could tell he was disappointed.  I was as proud of him at those time as I was when he got hits (and he got several hits).  The point is, I think, that he was learning it's okay to fail, to make mistakes and to lose.  At least that's what I hope he learned.

In two games on a hot, humid June day, J.P. experienced highs and lows, successes and failures, victory and defeat.  And I think he needed that, actually.  I think it was good for him and I'm curious to see how he responds his next time out.  I hope he's able to maintain a little more of an emotional equilibrium when he fails or makes an out and not get quite so upset.  That will take time, because he's so intense when he plays sports (I wonder where that comes from), but he'll get there.  I know he will.

In the second game, I coached against my longtime friend, City League softball teammate (back in the day at West Park), and Law League softball opponent, Peter Klett.  Lots and lots of irony in us coaching against each other after so many years of playing with and against each other in softball games all over the city.  In the old days, during the City Tournament, Peter and I talked to each other on our cell phones incessantly for the two weeks of the Tournament, so much so it used to drive Jude crazy.  With a tip of the cap to "The Godfather," she used to let us "go to the mattresses" during the City Tournament and talk about nothing but softball, 10 times a day on our cell phones.  Now, here we were, a decade later, talking to each other on our cell phones multiple times about our 6U teams and the tournament they were playing in.  Funny.

Peter and I agreed it was a lot more intense than we had anticipated, for the boys and the coaches.  Pitching to our batters was a difficult and pressure filled experience for me.  I tried so hard to give them good balls to hit, but it was tough to do from a little farther back than normal.  It also was difficult pitching to boys I haven't been pitching to all season long, especially the boys that are really good hitters.  I couldn't help but be conscious of the parents and other family members watching and cheering  and jeering (more on that in a minute), as I pitched to the boys.

Late in the first game, as I pitched to our last batter, it got quiet.  Suddenly, I heard a man behind the backstop yell "come on, coach, pitch the ball in there and stop throwing it like a softball," or something to that effect.  To say I was pissed is an understatement.  I came within an eyelash of stopping the game and walking to the backstop to confront a man who it turned out was the grandfather of the boy batting.  Fortunately, I didn't.  We finished the inning and the game, and I went looking for him.  When I found him, we had what I thought was a pleasant conversation (all things considered), as I asked him to help me throw better pitches by letting me know where they were, as opposed to yelling at me.  "Be my pitching coach," I told him.

Intense?  Yes.

I also was surprised how intense the experience was for me.  I wanted badly for J.P. to do well, and he did.  Still, it was kind of stressful watching him, which I guess is just part of the deal.  Baseball is the hardest game for young boys to play, I think, because there are so many nuances to the game.  Soccer, basketball and other sports are just reaction sports.  Kick the ball in the goal, shoot the ball in the basket, etc.  Baseball requires so much more thought and knowledge of the rules.  It's just harder for boys to grasp.

Damn.  What a day.  Two more games tomorrow, too.

Play ball!