I am a baseball coach. I say that without shame, remorse, or self-scorn. Throughout the past fifty years or so America has been ripe with youth coaches who follow their sons’ progress from the coaches box, rather than the bleachers like a normal parent. Some coaches–nay, many–truly know very little about the particulars of the sport they elected themselves to coach. Pretty much what they know is what old Coach McNally taught them back when they were 9 years old. “Keep the back elbow up, son. You’ll never hit a ball if you don’t watch the ball hit the bat. Bend your back.” (By the way, the link has as interesting little piece on keeping the back elbow up for those among us who are interested in such silliness.)
Now, for a confession that I offer with a certain degree of discomfort; most of those coaches drive me to distraction. I appreciate a man who will admit, “I only did it because no one else would–I really know very little about the sport.” On the other hand, there’s nothing quite like having a kid on your team whose dad is a self-appointed expert–no need to ask him, as he’ll tell you every time he gets a chance. Now, granted, he was probably a terrible player, and his son is too, but his (fuzzy) memory is that he was scouted by the Phillies and would have made it if only he had played at a bigger high school.
To any coach who takes his responsibility seriously and goes out and spends time (and money) learning his trade rather than repeating the same old wrong crap he learned from Coach McNally, I say Thank You.
“Goodness, Mike, what has gotten into you today? Why the rant?”
Aah, thank you for your concern, my friend. Another confession…my baseball team is terrible. I’d like to think that we’ll get better soon, or that these kids are just going through that stage of quick growth where their joints seem to operate out of whack, like a tire that is about to rupture, or a wagon that has three round wheels and a square one. I’d also like to think that the Israelis and the Palestinians will start getting along soon, and that President Obama will lower our taxes, but those things probably won’t happen either. We’re bad.
Years ago, the inimitable coach of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, John McKay, said, “Well, we didn’t tackle well today, but we made up for it by not blocking.” That’s kind of like my team–we can’t hit, but we make up for that with poor pitching, bad defense, and bone-headed baserunning. Back to Coach McKay–when once asked about his team’s execution, he responded, “I’m in favor of it.” That very accurately describes how I felt about my team on Saturday. There used to be a guy in one of my Dad’s churches who would say, “There’s nothing wrong with this church that a funeral or two wouldn’t cure.” True dat.
First inning, first batter–slow bouncer right to the first baseman, who bobbled it, bobbled it, and then bobbled it, enabling the runner to arrive safely. First inning, second batter–easy ground ball to the pitcher, who fielded it cleanly, then missed the first baseman with his throw by at least five feet. First inning, third batter–4-pitch walk. First inning, fourth batter–easy fly ball that landed about 15 feet in front of the center field, who never moved. Don’t know if he lost it in the lights or just what. First inning, fifth batter–walk. It just got worse from there. We gave up six runs in the first inning and got beat 11-1 in 5 innings. We got beat 12-1 in game 2.
Joe Torry is one heck of a coach, but I think even he might scratch his head on this one. There are a few bright spots, and I’m hopeful that out of the 16 fellows on the club, perhaps 6-7 of them might one day make the varsity roster. The other 10 probably should consider cross country or track.
