One of my dreams came true when I got to coach my kids’ baseball teams. I have two years of coaching under my belt. Both kids have played baseball for two years and The Oppressed is fine if she never sees another baseball field again.
Youth baseball is a learning experience. The kids learn the basics of the game, like not running to first base with the bat in your hand (everyone had that down by midseason). You also have to remind them of the rules from time to time in a gentle manner, like when your second baseman has a meltdown in the middle of the infield when someone is standing on her base (true story). Again, you have to remind them of the rules from time to time.
The Boy seemed to like baseball. He is asking if he can play again and if I can coach his team. I’m hoping I can. The Oppressed has informed me she hates baseball and everything about it. I think I have the only kid in North America who hates batting. She is never doing it again and she is working to have the act of batting banned for all eternity.
This year, I think I am going to emphasize the concept of taking turns. That way, I won’t have three kids standing on first base wondering what the other two are doing there. I’m also going to teach baserunning and how to do it. Or, more accurately, to run to first base instead of standing in the batter’s box thinking you’re David Ortiz as you admire your majestic pop-fly barely clearing the infield dirt.
I think it’s also important to teach the importance of defense and use the glove your parents gave you. Otherwise, we’ll have another kid want to quit when the ball hits them in the chest while their hands (and said glove) are down at their sides.
One player needed a drink of water every other batter. When that didn’t work, he needed the bathroom. Must have been all that water.
I read a story about Red Sox players doing a shot of whiskey before a game. I wonder if the coaches ever needed it.