The Pause
I’ve traveled to a lot of little league ballparks over the last few years.
Most are memorable, a few are not. I loved visiting the Jay Artigues Sportsplex in Hammond, where shade was at a minimum, but tasty and refreshing Italian Ices and words of wisdom (check out their billboards zip tied to the back of the dugouts!) were plentiful. Or The Fly in New Orleans where you can see a barge meandering down the muddy Mississippi and giraffes grazing from their grassy home at the Audubon Zoo. The women’s restroom at St. Julien Park in Broussard consistently and refreshingly smells like pizza and while Houston does many things well (shout out to HEB and Lupe Tortilla), their ballpark restrooms are not one of them.
Competitive ball at such a young age is an everchanging view. The uniforms are different, the walkup songs are swapped out and sometimes even the rules that seem to be set in stone, change from ballpark to ballpark. Behavior fluctuates too, often in tandem with the score. A winning team will surely have some happy parents, with cowbells and high fives, but a losing team often falls apart quickly. In a moment, parents could be yelling at coaches, coaches at umpires, umpires at parents, players at each other and parents at players.
But one thing remains the same. The kids.
Underneath the swag of their walkup songs, their fancy uniforms and matching cleats, are 8-year-old boys who think farts are funny and teeth brushing is overrated. They are the constant reminder that sometimes losing is winning and winning is losing.
If you’re lucky enough to watch an 8-year-old play baseball, then chances are you’re lucky enough to watch at least one ball player on that field stop – in the middle of the game – to tie his shoe.
That is the gift of this game.
The pause.
During that pause, when a young boy with more baby teeth than adult teeth, bends down and sings a song in his head about bunny ears and laces, taking his time to make sure he is doing what his adults so patiently taught him to do, tightening those laces – we, as adults, need to stop, too. We need to breathe. We need to watch.
We need to stop comparing, criticizing, pressurizing and categorizing these kids. We need to stop putting our expectations onto these boys who only want to make us proud. We need to stop thinking that baseball is anything more than a game. Maybe we can teach them to run a little faster or field a little strong or hit a little better. But they can teach us, too.
The beauty of the game is not found in the fancy turf or the latest Cat 9 baseball bat. The beauty of the diamond lies in a hunched over ball player with small hands and big dreams, fumbling with his laces, and forcing us to pause. Breathe. Watch.
June 10, 2021