Fair Ball

I need to get something off my chest.  Last night, I veered dangerously close to becoming one of 'those' parents.  You know, the sports parent who takes pleasure in the failures of the other team, who actually does a happy dance when a nine year old makes a mental error that costs his team a run.  I'm not proud of it, but there it is.  I wanted to see the other team experience a little karmic payback, and I'm still wrestling as to whether that's a deficiency on my part or theirs.

Our guys were playing an uber-aggressive team that has a real 'win at all costs' attitude.  They play what I call 'cheap baseball', where a runner steals home as the pitcher is walking back to the mound with the ball, and turns his back on home plate as he does so.  I'm not saying it's not legal, I'm saying it's a cheap way to score runs.  I'm talking about the kind of team that isn't satisfied to apply a tag for an out.  They have to take the runner down when they tag him.  More of a rugby tag.  They don't just lead off of first, they taunt the pitcher as they take their lead.  It's a head game with them, and it usually works on opposing teams, because typical nine year old boys aren't into mind games, save the occasional failed attempt at a Jedi mind trick.

I managed to reign in my inner-sports dad most of the game, but there were a couple of moments where these kids just stepped outside the boundaries of sportsmanship in my opinion.  The clincher was the last play when my son was the victim of one of their said 'rugby tags', and the opponents celebrated their win with chest bumps and loud cheers as Grady cradled second base with a bloody lip.

My argument is not a mere, wimpy 'play nice, boys'.  I realize that for every Cal Ripken Jr., there's bound to be a Ty Cobb out there, turning up his spikes on the slide, looking for ways to win to feed his own fevered ego.  We should play to win, but I don't think that kind of baseball is designed to make you a winner in the long run.

This philosophy is actually for the good of those kids who won the game last night.  This kind of baseball won't get you very far, because in a season or two, you'll find that you can't pull those kind of stunts without someone giving it right back to you.  You'll try to steal home on a play no one has any business stealing on, just to grandstand, and you'll end up flat on your back as the catcher blocks the plate and Thurmon Munsons you to the ground as payback for that brushback pitch your starter threw at his buddy.  You'll taunt the other team with chants from the dugout and find that it fuels the opponent to rally mightily instead of fold.  You'll find that once players hit a certain age and skill level, they don't take your crap...they feed it right back to you.  Then you'll be whining like Pete Rose when Gene Garber broke his 44 game hitting streak, and no one will care, because we're all a little glad someone stopped you from catching the more noble Dimaggio.

As Grady nursed a bloody lip and bruised ego last night, I told him in the car that what makes me proud of his team is that they play with integrity.  I don't mean that the other team cheated.  I mean integrity, from its root in Latin, meaning 'truly whole'.  To me, baseball is a game this is physical, mental, emotional, and yes, spiritual.  The other team last night played a great physical game, a probably too smart for their age mental game, but emotionally and spiritually, I saw a void.  On the other hand, our team sometimes checks out, gets too down on themselves when they are behind, but they play the kind of game at nine years old that they'd be expected to play in college ball, Double AA, or even the show.  It's the kind of ball that is competitive, but never cheap.  It's a respect for the game, the other team, and themselves.

Some of this is on me.  I know that as my kids get older, the rules change.  There's a contingency out there that says, "Take what's yours", "If it's not breaking the rules and gets you ahead, do it", and "There is no second place, there's only first and the losers".   I believe in winning, I believe in playing to win, and I believe in playing your hardest to do so.  I'm not Mr. Rogers in a pair of cleats.  But I do believe Little League is designed to nurture kids to respect the game more than the win column, and to respect themselves so they can hold their heads up as future versions of Cal Ripken Jr, Greg Maddux, and Sandy Koufax.  Not Ty Cobb.  Nobody liked Ty Cobb.  Nobody respected him as a man.  They wanted him on their team, but they didn't trust him.

Of course, I can't complain too much about a team that gave 110% - even if their version of how to do so is a little skewed - when I'm still showing some dugout immaturity at the age of 43.  I can't very well condemn the fleck of pitchers's resin in their eye when I've got a Louisville Slugger in mine.  So, I'll get to work on my game.  I sure hope they'll work on theirs, too.