Spring means baseball, and spring plus kids means Little League. And since I’m the kind of guy who presses down with his feet to counteract airplane turbulence, for me spring plus kids means coaching Little League.
It’s now my fourth child going through the system, and the sixth or so bunch of kids I have had the pleasure of hearing call me “coach.” I’m a habitual volunteer in other areas, notably Scouts and soccer, but coaching baseball is the most time-consuming — and satisfying.
It’s a happy coincidence that Joseph Susanka posted yesterday about the quality of continuity in baseball, because from where I stand — just off the bench, holding a clipboard — it’s palpable. The drills, the tips, the strategies, the admonitions (“get yer’ right elbow up!”) are timeless, echoing across a century and more. Even as I say them, they echo in my own head — in my father’s voice.
Orthodox. Faithful. Free.
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Coaching any youth sport brings one many delights. Teaching is satisfying. The bond of team camaraderie is an elemental human pleasure. It’s humbling to receive the trust of the young and honor it. But baseball’s deep tradition (along with its unrivaled complexity) makes it the plum gig.
Here’s the sign at my town field, here in secular, individualistic New Hampshire. Let us revel in such anachronisms as the Little League Pledge — as baseball — while we still can.
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