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Darrell KSR
06-23-2017, 11:20 AM
So was thinking back to kids' youth sports days and was reminded of a story when I played little league baseball. This was a year when I had a really bad coach, and the "Bad News Bears" was probably pretty close to the makeup of our team.

We didn't live in a great area, but probably a little nicer than some of the others in our little league district, and we had some pretty poor families in the league. We had a catcher on the team nicknamed, "Little Bit." Now, Little Bit really was small. He was also left-handed.

Are you sort of already getting the idea that our coach wasn't the greatest coach? Those who have played ball before know that generally, you a) don't want a small player playing catcher, and b) you don't want a left-handed player playing catcher. But we had both.

Our coach had the standard baseball equipment in the old duffel bag that you have all seen before--the standard 4 batting helmets, some baseballs, a few bats, and catcher's equipment. The catcher's equipment consisted of shin guards--which were too big for Little Bit, but he wore them anyway, and adjusted them after every pitch, a chest protector that swallowed him whole, a too-big catcher's mask, and his catcher's mitt.

The standard catcher's mitt.

For a right-handed player.

Yes, Little Bit wore a right-handed player's catcher's mitt, and caught left-handed.

Are you getting a better picture of the quality of our coach and his idea of the best position to place players?

Little Bit was fast, and he could hit. And he was very good at running back to the backstop and getting the balls he missed, as he wasn't the greatest at stopping the balls that came there. One thing we noticed was that he often lost his shoes when he was racing back to retrieve a missed ball.

We found out why. Little Bit didn't have shoelaces.

He played without shoelaces, and for the life of me, I can't remember if the reason was that the shoes he had didn't fit with shoelaces in them, or that he just didn't have them in the hand-me down-sneakers he played in.

Sneakers. I forgot, but that's what he was playing in, sneakers.

So mom and dad asked "Little Bit" if he wanted to come over to our house before the next game, which, as I recall, was on a Saturday. Little Bit was friendly and outgoing, and said yes, and mom asked if he needed to check with his mom, and he said he was good, so we just took him.

In hindsight, not sure we should've done that. But we did, it was a different time, and frankly, I'm not sure that I ever remember him having a mom. I think he walked to practice and games.

So he was over at our house, and mom put us in the car, and took us to a Payless type shoe store. They had cheap baseball cleats there, and had Little Bit try some on. Found a pair he liked, they fit, and she bought them. Little Bit thought that was the greatest gift in the world. He teared up at the gift that was bestowed upon him, and carried them in his arms like you might carry a newborn baby, precious and careful.

We got home and the ballgame was that afternoon. I remember that clearly, because Little Bit was going to eat lunch with us. Dad made hot dogs. I guess that was a good pre-game meal, we never thought about what you should eat back in those days, you just ate what you wanted, and hot dogs was baseball, anyway.

So Little Bit ate a hot dog. Loved it. And ate another. And another. And another.

Honest to goodness, you're not going to believe me when I tell you. He kept eating, and mom asked if he was sure he should eat more, and he kept saying that he always ate like that.

He ate 12 hot dogs.

And then we went to the game. In Mobile, Alabama. In hot, sunny weather. With Little Bit playing catcher, with his new shoes, and his catcher's mitt that fit the wrong hand, his too-big catcher's mask, and his chest protector that swallowed him whole, and his shin guards that twisted when he turned.

Little Bit played the worst game he had ever played. He missed more balls than normal, struck out when he got to the plate, and moaned when he was on the bench. The coach finally asked Little Bit if he was ok?

Little Bit replied, "No. They made me eat 12 hot dogs."

And that's how I ended up running laps the next practice. Damn Little Bit.

kingcat
06-24-2017, 10:42 AM
Hahaha. That's a great story.

badrose
06-25-2017, 07:23 AM
Awesome story, D. Gotta admit I got a little choked up reading that...until the ending. :sHa_dielaughing:

I've got one somewhat similar.

Near the end of my senior year, my dad, who was on some baseball committee, asked me if I'd be interested in coaching a PeeWee team made up of kids who didn't make the draft. I said, Sure. First practice was eye opening. There were privileged, poor, and in between. The uniforms were old (I'd worn one of them 10 years before) and the letters with the sponsor's business name (Greene's Studio)were either faded or missing and were distributed based on size. Some of the kids wore belts that were too long while others were OK or wore none at all. The parents were wonderful and supportive and the disparities had zero impact.

Practices went pretty well and it wasn't long before I decided on the lineup. My infield was pretty tight defensively and batting practice proved encouraging. I'd pitch just to make sure the kids didn't develop a fear of getting hit and the one's who showed real promise would get some extra heat. Overall, I liked what I saw, loved my kids...we were ready.

I don't remember much of any particular game except for one.

We were home team so we took the field first. My pitcher was well overweight, fat, to be blunt, and had eyes that went in different directions, his mom and dad were old (may have been grand parents) and poor, and the kids on the other team laughed at him...until he threw his first warm-up pitch. It had heat and pop, and thus ended the laughing. We played a good game defensively. I think it was the third inning when my pitcher was due up with runners on 1st & 2nd. I could tell he was nervous so before he went to the box I went to have a word with him and told him he had a big gap down the left field line and to try to hit the ball there..just to get him thinking positive.

Well, he did just that...big time. Not over the fence, but a decent runner might have made it all the way around. He ran slow but made it around 2nd and threatened to go to 3rd with a daring glare and the shaking of his chubby little hands. The parents went wild, heck, we all did. We ended up winning that game and went 6-3 for the season IIRC. It was a time I'm proud of and enjoyed immensely.

CGWildcat
06-25-2017, 08:32 AM
That's a funny story! Poor Little Bit

kingcat
06-25-2017, 05:15 PM
Awesome story, D. Gotta admit I got a little choked up reading that...until the ending. :sHa_dielaughing:

I've got one somewhat similar.

Near the end of my senior year, my dad, who was on some baseball committee, asked me if I'd be interested in coaching a PeeWee team made up of kids who didn't make the draft. I said, Sure. First practice was eye opening. There were privileged, poor, and in between. The uniforms were old (I'd worn one of them 10 years before) and the letters with the sponsor's business name (Greene's Studio)were either faded or missing and were distributed based on size. Some of the kids wore belts that were too long while others were OK or wore none at all. The parents were wonderful and supportive and the disparities had zero impact.

Practices went pretty well and it wasn't long before I decided on the lineup. My infield was pretty tight defensively and batting practice proved encouraging. I'd pitch just to make sure the kids didn't develop a fear of getting hit and the one's who showed real promise would get some extra heat. Overall, I liked what I saw, loved my kids...we were ready.

I don't remember much of any particular game except for one.

We were home team so we took the field first. My pitcher was well overweight, fat, to be blunt, and had eyes that went in different directions, his mom and dad were old (may have been grand parents) and poor, and the kids on the other team laughed at him...until he threw his first warm-up pitch. It had heat and pop, and thus ended the laughing. We played a good game defensively. I think it was the third inning when my pitcher was due up with runners on 1st & 2nd. I could tell he was nervous so before he went to the box I went to have a word with him and told him he had a big gap down the left field line and to try to hit the ball there..just to get him thinking positive.

Well, he did just that...big time. Not over the fence, but a decent runner might have made it all the way around. He ran slow but made it around 2nd and threatened to go to 3rd with a daring glare and the shaking of his chubby little hands. The parents went wild, heck, we all did. We ended up winning that game and went 6-3 for the season IIRC. It was a time I'm proud of and enjoyed immensely.

Some things in life would be fun to visit and experience over. Perhaps God will leave those moments intact for us and only blot out the bad. You never know.

Another good story.

Darrell KSR
06-27-2017, 02:24 PM
Good story, badrose.

My best story of coaching my "Dixie League" team when I was 18 (they were 13 & 14) was when we had a rainout for practice one day before a game. We won the next game. The kids convinced the coaches that the rest from practice caused them to win, so my fellow coach and I (we were both 18) decided to let them have their way, and said as long as they won, we'd stay away from practice.

We went on a season-long win streak. Obviously, our coaching must have been suspect.