My Little League Baseball Career
My friend Stix posted on his blog about his son's somewhat disappointing experience playing little league baseball. It inspired a memory in me that I posted there, and thought I'd re-present here, in slightly edited form.
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. Often on a Saturday or Sunday, my family would go down to the local park 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 hit it wherever he wanted to, even directly to one of us.
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. (I may have played the other outfield positions on occasion, and I even played third base for one game, but didn't get to make a play then.) 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 always 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 (you could use one or maybe two subs --I forget which-- but if not enough of your players showed up, you were forced to forfeit that game), 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 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. Often on a Saturday or Sunday, my family would go down to the local park 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 hit it wherever he wanted to, even directly to one of us.
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. (I may have played the other outfield positions on occasion, and I even played third base for one game, but didn't get to make a play then.) 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 always 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 (you could use one or maybe two subs --I forget which-- but if not enough of your players showed up, you were forced to forfeit that game), and the last game of the season, when I was so discouraged that I decided not to even go.
Thus ended my baseball career.
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