• the217
• Life
• A little too good...

I have fond memories of playing baseball as a kid. It wasn’t because of my sparkling defensive skills, as I vaguely remember making three errors on the same play. It wasn’t because of my ability to handle a bat either, as I once hit a ball that bounced off the plate and then straight up to bust my lip. It also wasn’t because I could hit the ball a country mile, as my only home run was an inside the parker that involved a stray dog, a wet field, and a sight challenged right fielder. I must admit though, I really did enjoy all the playing of the grabass when the game wasn’t going on. I just want to be clear, no matter what I say after three or four beers, I was not an especially good baseball player.

When I first began playing, I was scared of getting hit by the ball. After a few games, I apparently became too ignorant to be scared by the ball, and I remember getting hit quite a bit. It wasn’t because I was threatening or anything. It was mostly because none of the freaking pitchers could control where the ball was going. This was usually not a big deal. I’d get hit, fall down, try not to cry, then trot to first base. I suppose it was weird, but at the time, it didn’t seem any stranger than anything else I was experiencing for the first time.

The leagues weren’t structured very carefully as far as age goes, so it just went by what grade of school you were in. The flaw in this system came to a head when a boy named Randy took the mound. Sure, he was technically a third grader, but that big stupid bastard had been held back a couple of times and he could throw really hard. I should amend that. He could throw really hard and no idea when the damned ball was going.

It sucked getting into the box and looking down to first base to see the batter before you rubbing his arm and examining the bruise that was already being formed by Randy’s erratic fastball. It didn’t really encourage me to step into the batter’s box and give it the old college try. I still stepped up to the plate though. I stepped up to the plate and got hit in the back just like most everyone else on our team until Randy’s arm eventually grew tired of plunking us.

Even today, I can’t sit here and say it didn’t suck, but it was sort of a lesson, I suppose. Maybe the lesson was don’t be afraid of the ball; the pain it causes is only temporary. A better lesson was probably to be very afraid of anyone who’s already been held back three times by the third grade. Either way, the whole thing was like anything else unpleasant a young man goes through. It was a lesson ... even if I didn’t understand it at the time.

At least I was lucky enough to have learned that lesson. Some kids in New Haven, Connecticut will sadly never have the chance to get a little scared during a Youth baseball game. This is because a nine year old named Jericho Scott doesn’t get to play anymore. He can play, but he just can’t pitch. This is because he’s been labeled as too good for the league. His fastball tops out at around forty miles per hour and league officials say that’s just too intimidating for the children just learning the game so he’s suspended from pitching.

Really? Really? That’s where we’re at now? I suppose this is that slippery slope everyone is always talking about. I remember throwing a hissy fit when I found out some youth leagues didn’t keep score anymore because they didn’t want some of the kids to feel bad about their suckiness. Now it’s got to the point when the kids might not even know they suck or that they need to improve. It’s easy to get a pretty high opinion of yourself if you’re not aware how many people out there are better than you.

I’m not sure what sort of lesson it sends to the kid who can’t pitch anymore either. Apparently, he’s never actually hit another player with the ball, he’s just a really good pitcher. I can hear it now. “Son, this is a tough lesson and you’re one of the fortunate few who get to experience it. You’re just too good and around these parts that means you can’t play anymore. Don’t ever strive to be the best because that can only hurt you in the end.” It’s all part of the cradle to grave mediocrity some people are satisfied with.

Just because something is unpleasant or hard is no reason to avoid it. Kids sit in their rooms and hit the reset button on the video game as much as they please and never have to persevere when things get too tough. It’s easy to become a quitter and sports are supposed to make people stronger and teach them lessons about the world and themselves. It may not necessarily be a crapload of fun the entire time but it’s sort of helpful down the road when things aren’t perfect all the time, you know, when they’re adults. Not letting a kid play because he’s too good is a bad lesson for everyone.