Baseball Pants
I love watching baseball.
My favorite part about watching baseball on TV is seeing inside the dugout. You're basically watching the boss of a million dollar corporation work. It would be like someone sitting in my office watching me work (except for the million dollar corporation part). Baseball managers are rarely seen when you're at the ballpark. Without the tv camera view of the dugout, they are briefly seen when they come out to talk to the pitcher or more notably, when they come out to yell at the umpire. My favorite though is when all you see is a water cooler hurled onto the field - that cracks me up. While they frequently get upset with umpires, baseball managers show very little public emotion towards their players. I love the closeups when a player has a great play or a bone head mistake - the manager's face often has the same stoic look. He might turn his head to the side and spit, but he doesn't yell at players publicly (usually).
With all the admiration that I have for baseball managers, they also have the dumbest habit - wearing a baseball uniform. It's insulting to them. Football coaches wear golf shirts and khakis. Basketball coaches wear suits. What's up MLB? I like to say that the first major fight that Bill and I had was over this issue (Wrigleyville 2003). (At this point the fight is just that I won't drop this issue.)
Last night at Frank's Little League game I appreciated the fact that the coaches don't wear baseball pants (they wear the jersey, which I think is enough). I became annoyed at the constant, constant, constant redirection. chokeupgetintheboxgetintoitbeahitteryougottacatchthosegetintotheplatewatchhimhesgoingtosteal. It ruins the pace and flow of the game. It upsets the kids and doesn't help them at all. I watched the face of the pitcher who failed to cover home plate on a wild pitch - he was actually on his way to home plate (but too late) as the coach yelled at him. I thought, that kid knows he screwed up, there is no reason to yell at him. There were lots of examples like that.
I don't want to return to the early days where we could only say encouraging things and everyone gets a trophy blahblah. (My favorite thing about Little League is that I can applaud when the pitcher strikes a kid out. I always feel bad for the kid walking away dragging his bat and avoiding eye contact, but strike outs are cool.) I think kids should lose sometimes and I think they should screw up and let it get in their head. You wouldn't let that kid's teammates yell at him about failing to cover home, so why should the coach? And also? You don't need to. That pitcher will move faster next time because he'll remember that mistake more than anyone else.
Frank had some not so great moments in the game last night and those moments were weighing on him as we walked to the van. He also had some great moments.
"I loved your double," I said.
"It was more like a single with an error," he said.
"Eh. And then I loved when you ran and slid into home."
His face brightened. "That was cool," he said.
"Yes," I said.
In reality I was actually grimacing as I watched the bodies potentially collide and the ball being thrown into home plate (12 year olds can throw hard! right at his little body!). I am glad that the kids wear baseball pants and an athletic cup.
My favorite part about watching baseball on TV is seeing inside the dugout. You're basically watching the boss of a million dollar corporation work. It would be like someone sitting in my office watching me work (except for the million dollar corporation part). Baseball managers are rarely seen when you're at the ballpark. Without the tv camera view of the dugout, they are briefly seen when they come out to talk to the pitcher or more notably, when they come out to yell at the umpire. My favorite though is when all you see is a water cooler hurled onto the field - that cracks me up. While they frequently get upset with umpires, baseball managers show very little public emotion towards their players. I love the closeups when a player has a great play or a bone head mistake - the manager's face often has the same stoic look. He might turn his head to the side and spit, but he doesn't yell at players publicly (usually).
With all the admiration that I have for baseball managers, they also have the dumbest habit - wearing a baseball uniform. It's insulting to them. Football coaches wear golf shirts and khakis. Basketball coaches wear suits. What's up MLB? I like to say that the first major fight that Bill and I had was over this issue (Wrigleyville 2003). (At this point the fight is just that I won't drop this issue.)
Last night at Frank's Little League game I appreciated the fact that the coaches don't wear baseball pants (they wear the jersey, which I think is enough). I became annoyed at the constant, constant, constant redirection. chokeupgetintheboxgetintoitbeahitteryougottacatchthosegetintotheplatewatchhimhesgoingtosteal. It ruins the pace and flow of the game. It upsets the kids and doesn't help them at all. I watched the face of the pitcher who failed to cover home plate on a wild pitch - he was actually on his way to home plate (but too late) as the coach yelled at him. I thought, that kid knows he screwed up, there is no reason to yell at him. There were lots of examples like that.
I don't want to return to the early days where we could only say encouraging things and everyone gets a trophy blahblah. (My favorite thing about Little League is that I can applaud when the pitcher strikes a kid out. I always feel bad for the kid walking away dragging his bat and avoiding eye contact, but strike outs are cool.) I think kids should lose sometimes and I think they should screw up and let it get in their head. You wouldn't let that kid's teammates yell at him about failing to cover home, so why should the coach? And also? You don't need to. That pitcher will move faster next time because he'll remember that mistake more than anyone else.
Frank had some not so great moments in the game last night and those moments were weighing on him as we walked to the van. He also had some great moments.
"I loved your double," I said.
"It was more like a single with an error," he said.
"Eh. And then I loved when you ran and slid into home."
His face brightened. "That was cool," he said.
"Yes," I said.
In reality I was actually grimacing as I watched the bodies potentially collide and the ball being thrown into home plate (12 year olds can throw hard! right at his little body!). I am glad that the kids wear baseball pants and an athletic cup.
posted by Lea at 6:36 AM
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