“The ball? On a tee?
Back then, I recall being exhausted with all the rubberized playgrounds thanks to liability lawsuits over scraped knees, broken arms, fractured collar bones, and sunburn filed by citizens across the country. Government had to comply once precedents were established, but who knew my parents could have sued the city because I chose to slide on a black-topped playing service or fell from the monkey bars because I thought it’d be cool to see if I could walk across on the top?
“Geeze … how wussified do we have to make life for these damn kids?”
Likely not all of those words were part of what floated silently in my brain when I first heard about this new “league,” but I’m sure it was close.
Why?
But hitting a baseball off a tee? Sure, it’s OK in golf because, well, that’s golf, but baseball is all about using a round object to strike another round object that is thrown by an opposing pitcher who’s trying to trick you. Could be a fastball or a curveball or a knuckleball, but a golf ball just sits there waiting for a whack.
Perhaps my immediate attitude was the product of my childhood. When I finally reached age 6, I began playing organized Little League Baseball in Elm Grove, and I’m so old, the Pinto League did not exist. Instead, I played Mustang, a circuit for boys age 6 to 10 years old. The only pitching the coaches performed was during batting practice, and the same was true on the Bronco and Pony levels.
We got hit with pitches, infield rocks bounced balls into our faces, and the wool uniforms were irritating, to say the least.
So, tee-ball? For sissies, right?
Wrong. I was wrong.
It’s cute, and it’s sweet, and there’s more laughter than anything else. I know I would have LOVED tee-ball because the ages are 4 to 6 years old (didn’t know that) and it serves as the first filter for children (didn’t realize that) so little boys and girls can experience the game in its easiest form. That way, mothers and fathers are able to gage their child’s level of interest, and if they display a penchant, they move up to the next level and another filter.
And while I am wholeheartedly against the “participation trophy,” I think it’s appropriate that these young children get a little, shiny statue, and that’s because I recall my very first trophy. I earned a position on the Mountaineer League’s 1976 All Stars in the Moundsville Tournament. I was 9 years old, and that plastic, silver piece of gold welcomed me to appreciating the contributions I made to winning that championship.
And yes, I still have it, and that’s because it represents the moment I fell in love with the game. And to this day, there’s nothing better than witnessing a child fall in love with it, too.
