A Little Baseball Story

When Logan was in the first grade they did their first year of coach-pitch baseball.  It's a big adjustment from tee-ball because they have to actually hit a ball that's thrown to the plate, versus hitting it off of a tee.

At that age, in a recreational league, there are a lot of rules, both written and unwritten, that are there to try and make the game enjoyable for everybody.  For instance, pretty much everybody on the team will get equal playing time, equal number of at-bats, and will get to play a little bit of every position they're capable of playing.

Scores aren't supposed to be kept (but they are, by both overzealous parents and by kids who are developing their competitive streak a bit early.)

Logan's team had a little boy who appeared to have some sort of developmental issues.  His coordination was poor and his interactions with the other kids were a bit less than what you might expect of a child his age. 

Based on my limited interaction with him, that's all I could tell you.  Was he autistic?  Was he simply poorly coordinated and so shy he didn't talk to other kids?  I'm not a psychologist, but if I had to guess, he had something on the autistic spectrum going on.

Let's call him David.  (Not his real name.)

My son, Logan, believes that someday he could be a major leaguer.  The way he plays so far, heck, if the next 10 years are exceptionally kind to him, maybe he will.  It's not a realistic dream, but as far as I'm concerned, 8 years old is the perfect time to have unrealistic dreams.

So, during his rec league years, he would say, "Maybe someday, I could play in the Major Leagues" Or "Maybe Sam could be in the major leagues".  Or, "Maybe Jaxon could be in the major leagues."

For all I know, all three of them could play professional baseball someday.  They were, and are, all very talented kids.  So, I can say with sincerity, "You never know.  It could happen."

David?  Bless him, but most of the time, he acted like he didn't want to be there at all.  His mother brought him to all the games and practices.  I never saw a father.  Who knows what their family situation is like.

It could be a test of patience sometimes.  It wasn't even so much that he had difficulty doing things.  It's that the coach and the volunteer Dads sometimes had difficulty even getting David to perform simple tasks.  Clearly, we're not trained in special ed, and the only motivational tool we have with any of the kids is begging.

"Okay, Joey.  Throw the ball, buddy.  Throw it over to Mikey at second base.  Now would be a good time.  Just give it a throw... any time now... maybe over to Mikey at second base.  No, look over the other way.  Second base is that one over there... What say we make a biggo throw right now!  Just... give it a throw... show us how strong you are dude..."

And that's an interaction you would have with one of your better players.

With David, it was a bit worse.  He had more than the typical spaciness and distractedness of the other 6 and 7 year olds.  He had much less of the coordination that very few of them displayed to begin with.

One day, I brought my pitching machine to practice.  Kids love gadgets and machines.  Any kid can tell you that it's more fun to hit a ball thrown by a machine than it is to hit a ball thrown by a person.  We had to chase kids away who wandered over from the local playground because they wanted to hit from the machine.  Literally, 10 year olds were walking up, picking up a bat and going up to the plate saying they wanted to hit "just one". 
So, the kids on our team were jazzed about getting to use the machine. 

I'm a firm believer in the "you can have icing, but you have to eat the cake, too" school of thought.  If you've got something a kid really, really wants to do, you can always use it, as a parent or a coach, to get them to do something they really, really should do, but wouldn't, otherwise.

So, before they could hit off the machine, I put them through a drill where the swing is broken down in 6 basic steps. 

All the kids did the drill perfectly, then we had them hit 10 balls off the pitching machine. 

Well... almost all the kids did the drill perfectly.  David really... well... what he did wasn't even a remote approximation of the drill.  There's only so much you can do during the course of the practice.  I didn't want David to feel singled out, so I just acted as though he did the drill just like everybody else and put him on the pitching machine.

David... well... let's just say he didn't really swing a bat in the conventional sense of swinging a bat.  He moved the bat, but not always in the right direction and never in a manner that could have hit anything but himself.

So, he watched 4 of his pitches go by.  His mother encouraged him, "Swing the bat, David!".  David swung and a ball (the yellow no-sting balls), hit him in the hand.  He collapsed like he had been hit by a truck.  Didn't cry, made no facial expression, but was clearly distraught. 

I asked if he wanted to keep going, and he nodded.  He finished the drill by standing 7 feet away from home plate just to make sure that he didn't get hit again.  Though, we did make some progress, because as he was standing 7 feet away, he was at least swinging the bat every now and then.

That's an indication of the type of challenges that David faced.  This was pretty much what it was like trying to work with him.

So, we go on to the very last game of the season.  David was up to bat, and for some reason, he stuck his bat straight out in front of him.  Sort of the way you might hold a light saber if you were in ready position.  In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if that was exactly what he was thinking.

He actually hit the ball!  Well... the ball hit his bat, actually.  It went nearly 3 feet!!! 

In rec league ball for little kids, any contact with the bat is pretty much guaranteed to get you on base because the odds of the opposing team having somebody who can field and throw the ball AND having somebody who can catch it and either apply a tag or put their foot on the base approaches zero.

DAVID HAD A HIT!!!  He got to first base.  It was the second happiest I ever saw a kid.  He jumped up and down.  Didn't utter a word, but had a smile on his face for the first time since the season began!

Then, later in the game, realizing that the light saber trick worked the last time, he did it again!  ANOTHER BASE HIT!

This time, the rest of the kids hit him around and he got to cross home plate.  I've seen World Series on-field celebrations that were subdued in comparison to David's joy at coming home.  The entire bench emptied out and the entire team ran onto the field cheering for David.

Little kids really see something special about stepping on home plate.  One of the beautiful things about baseball is that it is the only game where home is the most significant place on the field.  Home plate is even shaped like a little house.  Kids love, love, love to go home. 

When they can't, sometimes they get dejected.  Logan plays for a local travel team, now, and if he gets stranded during a quick scrimmage at the end of practice, he'll talk about it for 3 days afterwards.  "I didn't get to go home."

Young kids know the object is to get home, and it's probably more special to them than to players of any other age or level.  Regardless of the score or situation, nothing pumps them up like running home. 

So, David capped off his season by doing the coolest thing he could imagine doing on a baseball diamond.  He got to do the ultimate achievement.  He got to go home.

THAT was the happiest I've ever seen a kid.

I think everybody was happy for David.  These days, coaches get at least a little respect and gratitude for the time they put in.  Personally, I always have a special place in my heart for the parents of kids who are struggling with sports.

It probably has roots in thinking back to all those times my grandmother used to haul me to baseball practice or games, where my batting average probably only required 2, and not 3 significant digits.  The only things more intimate with the bench than my butt were the nails that held the thing together. 

A parent of a kid like David probably has a lot of challenges.  If folks think the coaches' patience was tested, I can only imagine the patience of a parent of a child with special needs. 

At the same time, they pay their money to have their kid play ball just like everybody else.  If she was a single parent, she had more challenges than most of the parents on the team just in finding the time to take her boy to and from practices and games. 

Why does she do it?  Because she wants her boy to get the experience, get a little bit of physical activity, build a little self esteem, interact with other kids his age.  Mostly, though, she probably does it because she wants her boy to have fun. 

That's the main reason any of us are doing it.  Or, if it isn't, we should probably re-evaluate our priorities.

David had more than fun that day.  It was genuine elation.

Starting on the drive home that day, and for about the next two months, every few days, Logan would bring up David's two great at bats, and we would talk about how awesome it was that he had two big hits and got to cross home plate.

Every time, at the end of us discussing the story, Logan would add, "And maybe David could play in the Major Leagues."

I would respond the same way I always did.  "You never know.  Could happen."