Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, June 20, 1994 TAG: 9407150010
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Joe Kennedy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Throw strikes.
Make it be in there.
Swing the bat. You can't get a hit if you don't swing the bat.
To those who dwell in darkness, these sentences might be cliches, but to those who worship at the church of baseball, they are nothing less than commandments.
The sandlot season is winding down. Soon the hours of practice, the anxiety of getting the boys and girls to the field on time, the thrill of victory and the agony - too weak a word - of defeat will be but memories.
As parents, many of us are saying, ``It's about time.'' Yet we'll miss it, probably more than our kids will.
We read a lot about the bad parts of sandlot ball - about overcompetitive coaches who put too much emphasis on winning, about kids who don't get to play enough, and what that does to their self-esteem, about parents who push their children and take the fun out of the game.
As someone who has watched four years of it, and is helping to coach a team this season, I can testify that all of these things are real. But they're not the whole story.
For many coaches, sandlot ball is watching the kid who couldn't buy a hit last season turn into a slugger this year.
It's seeing a shy kid get a taste of success, boosting his confidence and making him even better.
It's soaking up the enthusiasm of the younger players, taking care not to kill it, because they'll need it later on.
It's tossing and turning all night after a late-inning loss, and doing the same thing two nights later, after a stirring comeback win.
It's repeating the commandments time after after time after time, to convince the youngsters that big things can happen when they do little things well.
Sure, the environment is competitive, sometimes too competitive. We cringed when we heard about the coach who got tossed out of a tee-ball game for arguing with the umpire. That's unacceptable, even in a culture built on competition. It's up to us to say so.
We've seen kids who've been bred with a killer instinct, who look, at age 10, like they should be pitching with the pros. We're not surprised that they exist. Our society encourages such cockiness. How many teachers, nurses and social workers have you seen in Nike ads?
We've run into whiny coaches who badger umpires without a thought of the example they're setting. They - and the parents who encourage them - poison the atmosphere for everyone.
But we've also met the other, more constructive kind, like the coach who asks, ``What do you want - better athletes or better people?''
I think we know the answer to that.
Coaches can lose their cool when a game is tight, but the best ones realize they can't pitch, catch or hit for their players. That's rule number two. Rule number one is the umpire is always right.
Both rules are easy to forget. We make mistakes, and kids need to know this. They need to hear us admit it.
The good coaches do more than yell. They act as psychologists and cheerleaders, and they struggle to master the most difficult virtue of all: patience. Baseball is frustrating. Kids mess up, strike out and goof off, but a coach can't lose faith. He can only grind his teeth and say, ``Good try.''
And good coaches work to satisfy players with widely differing talents. Those with advanced skills usually play more than those who are just learning. Sometimes parents don't like this, and say so. Is it fair? That depends on whether your child is in the lineup, and whether you think trying to win has anything to do with playing the game.
Most coaches I know would say yes, it does. But so do a lot of other things, like teaching kids to show up on time and play hard, with their shirttails in - and their mouths shut, when the umpire makes a bad call. These are important lessons.
The play's at second.
Run if it's hit on the ground.
Get in front of it.
Keep your glove down.
Living and dying from inning to inning, I think of another baseball commandment, the most celebrated of them all: It's only a game.
I don't think so. Not when our kids are involved.
by CNB