I will forever have a love-hate relationship with travel sports. Mostly hate, actually, because it's such a racket.
This morning at Drake's Creek in Hendersonville, I will watch Joe play in what very likely will amount to a C +, or B - (if they're lucky) baseball game. In other words, this will be a recreational league-level baseball game in which the parents of players on both teams have paid $2,500, give or take, so their sons can play "travel baseball." Few of these boys will play high school baseball and none of them will play college baseball.
Tell that to their parents, though, especially the father to my immediate right who is currently setting up a video camera on a tripod to film the game in general, and I am sure, his son's at bats in particular. I mean, come on, give me a break.
Another father, directly behind me, is pontificating about the tournament scheduled, bracket play, etc. For a meaningless, fall baseball tournament in early October. He won't stop talking.
"You can tell a lot about a baseball team by how they warm up."
You don't say.
Our guys, 13 and 14 years old, are undersized. Somehow, all of Joe's "travel" baseball teams are undersized. As I look at the other team, which has much bigger boys, I feel confident in predicting a blowout. Joe's team will be gonged early is my guess.
Recreational baseball has been ruined by travel baseball, which is a shame. I could write a book about it and, maybe, someday I should.
