Welcome to Rancho Buena Vista Little League (RBVLL)! By signing up your son or daughter to play baseball this spring, you’ve not only scheduled a fun season of recreation, but also joined a tremendous extended sports family. Before you know it, you’ll be part of the great call and respond “Who are we?” “RBV!” cheer and find yourself welling with pride. During our boys’ first season I remember looking at the Majors players and thinking they were giants as they fiddled with their kendamas (remember those?) before taking the field. Now, as my son prepares to play his last Majors season, he serves as a big brother to your child. Yes, it’s the “circle of life” and the only thing cuter than baby Simba is a 4-year old in baseball pants and a Muck Dogs cap.
We won’t have a mandrill hoist your child atop of Pride Rock, but we will conduct opening ceremonies and parade your team in front of home plate for all the stands to see. By the time we get to March, you will have already experienced some of the logistics of Little League. You will have walked your way through age and boundary verification and wondered why you had to provide a birth certificate and three different proofs of residency. (Is my kid applying for a government security clearance or playing third base?) You will have procured the necessary gear: glove, bat, helmet, cup (for boys), baseball pants, cleats. Your team parent clued you in on which color socks and belt the team will be sporting this season. You’ll meet your manager, turn in your medical form, and your little slugger will be ready to “play ball!”
You may already be a seasoned sports parent, having watched your child run up and down the soccer field. Or, you may have hung on every note as you sat in the audience at a piano recital. Your child may have won the Scripps Spelling Bee, but I can tell with 100% unequivocally that there is nothing as compelling, as nerve-racking, as exhilarating, and as terrifying as watching your child at bat. As your child steps into the batter’s box, their challenge becomes your challenge and you can feel the weight of all eyes upon them. You desperately want them to succeed, but you also have to prepare them to handle failure. In our first ever Little League game, our younger son was the very first batter in the top of the first inning. This was single-A, so it was his slight six-year old frame facing a pitching machine firing baseballs at him. You get five pitches in our lower divisions, and it was agony for my wife and I to see him swing and miss the first four. He barely dribbled the fifth pitch back to the pitcher, and based on our reaction you would have thought that he hit a walk-off home run to win the World Series.
That’s the way it’s going to go for you and your child–some days you’ll come out on top, other days your team won’t be quite good enough. Regardless of the outcome of the game, nine-year olds are largely in agreement that pizza is great post-game snack. In our time at RBVLL, we’ve had our share of successes and failures and I wouldn’t have it any other way. One of the lessons of youth sports is that team athletic outcomes are binary–you either win or lose–there’s no middle ground of achievement. And like everything in life–your reaction is far more important than the actual event. I’ve given the “win with class, lose with dignity” speech so often, I think you can find a version of it on TED talks.
Hopefully, you’ll fall in love with RBVLL as much as I have. It might start with something small, like being asked to coach first base on a Saturday when one of the coaches is out. Don’t worry about any perceived lack of baseball knowledge, the essential skill in coaching first base in the lower divisions is high-fiving the runner to celebrate his success or encourage him for next time. Maybe, like me, you’ll realize that getting down on the field is even more rewarding than watching from the stands. After all, it takes a special person to constantly remind the left fielder to stop watching the game on the other field. And when you can celebrate your team’s success in the proximity of the dugout as opposed to the remoteness of the stands–there is nothing better than the smile of nine-year old who just did something he didn’t think he could.
Take it from me, coaching on the field is the best seat in the house! I remember a cool April evening in double-A, standing between our left center fielder and our right center fielder. The sun was setting and it was just before the lights needed to be turned on. With an amazing SoCal sunset behind home plate, I was watching little boys play the children’s game. The stillness of twilight was punctuated by the occasional ping of the bat or a cheer from the crowd. Neither Ray Kinsella nor Shoeless Joe Jackson were there, but…it was pretty heavenly.
After two seasons, my younger son decided playing baseball wasn’t for him. While Chase hung up his size 1 cleats, he continued to play a major part in our Little League experience–leading the cheering section or capably managing the GameChanger app. His retirement was somewhat surprising to my wife and I as we kind of pegged him for the “sporty” one, but his interests led him elsewhere. Our older son, on the other hand, didn’t show signs of early athletic leanings. Instead of just dunking on our Little Tikes Basketball hoop, he would want to direct a carefully choreographed and unnecessarily complex role play of a basketball game. In turns out what we interpreted as not interested in playing sports was actually the active mind of a future coach at work. (He’s a bit of control freak like his dad.)
For the past three seasons, Ryan and I have teamed up as player and manager on the same team. As your child progresses through the divisions, you’ll probably find, like most, that it’s never easy to coach your kid. At a recent basketball practice, Ryan’s coach (not me) explained that he was stricter with his boy because the coach is always going to be hardest on his son. Upon hearing this, Ryan almost suffered whiplash spinning his head around making deliberate and knowing eye contact with me. In addition to numerous baseball lessons, we’ve learned a lot about each other as father and son and we’ve had our shares of highs and lows. There was the ultra-silent drive to Fallbrook after Ryan spent the morning at home complaining that a two hour baseball game ate too much time into his weekend video gaming and that he was done playing baseball. While that would probably be the low point, it’s been overshadowed with so many high points: laughter in the dugout, team parties, the RBI double in Tournament of Champions that made his mother cry. And when the season ends, #13 usually sheds a tear or two (Dad has as well). I am so grateful Ryan has found something he cares about.
But beyond the baseball, there’s just something special about our league. The phrase “where everybody knows your name” gets thrown around pretty loosely, but if the setting of Cheers took place at a youth sports field instead of a bar, that place might be RBVLL. There’s an uncanny sense of camaraderie that exists as soon you pass Shadowridge Park and turn down the hill. I don’t know the names of all the families but there’s a shared culture that we seem to all have bought into. Youth sports can have an ugly, competitive edge to it, but I find the collective RBVLL spirit more often refreshing than not. It’s common for coaches to meet their former players in front of the snack bar and congratulate them on a game-winning play even thought they’re now on opposing sides. After the autonomic ritual of “good game” at home plate, sixth and seventh graders find their friends on the other team and offer more authentic exchanges. (Either that or talk about the cute girl in social studies who’s at the game.) Whether it be the rhythm of the snack bar calling out orders, little legs furiously running after a foul ball, or the comedy of someone retrieving a baseball off the netting with the telescoping extender, it’s been home to my family for the better part of six years.
Perhaps you and I will meet when I’m umpiring third base during your son’s AAA game. RBVLL has a tremendous junior umpire program, and my son will be geared up and calling balls and strikes behind the plate. During a “check your laces” timeout, I’ll attempt to regale you with stories about our plucky AAA Orioles team. As you half-heartedly listen to me while you think about who you have left to pitch in the next innings, you’ll realize that you’re going through the same manager experiences that I did, the same experiences that AAA managers have had on that field for years. Like I said, it’s an extended family and one that you and I are now both a part of.
Statistically, youth baseball isn’t as popular as it once was, but I know you’ll realize these fields, this place, is about so much more than just the sport of baseball itself. Take good care of this league and pass on the values of community and sportsmanship, along with an appreciation of the perfectly unintended 9-4-2-1-3-5-2 double play. The faces will change, but the ages of the players will always stay the same.
When your child reaches the Majors, please let me know and I’ll come watch a game. If you’re not managing or coaching, we can stand behind home plate together; you can fill me in on any new Little League rules and I’ll buy the avocado egg rolls. You’ll introduce me to your neighbor, whose son just finishing up his first year of t-ball. We’ll joke about how we want to adopt 4-year old twins and do it all over again. You’ll know then, like I know now, that it’s an amazing time when you have that much Little League ahead of you.
-Coach Steve
