Actually, I went to go watch the little leaguers play tonight. And truth be told, I didn't really go watch the little leaguers play, I was walking my dog and decided to watch the tykes play. What attracted me to the games being played in the eight *(yes, count'em... 8 friggin fields)* fields was the amount of whoppin' and hollerin' going on. My dog was interested too, so off we went.
I got there in time to catch the end of a 7 year old game going on, last inning, the Cubs *(yes, THE CUBS!)* are up by one run in the last inning, the Yankees are batting. I overheard a couple talking near my dog and I that this was the playoff elimination games and the next night, winners play on, losers go home. BTW - my dog was not allowed into the park, so he and I had to hang out by the fence outside the park. No problem, like the view from out there any way. We're situated near the first base line, with a clear view of the first base bag. This is going to be important later on.
Bases loaded, two outs, down by one and the pitcher for the Cubs, a big, barrel chested kid that looks more like 14 than 7, is throwing heat... but with not much control. He strikes out two kids already who dared to swing at his heat, while the other three kids get on by bases on balls. Manager calls time out and tells the kid to calm down and throw strikes... even if the kid hits the ball, trust your fielders to make the play. I can hear the instruction and nod in agreement with coach. So the next kid comes up to bat and he looks like maybe he's the best player on the other team, a tall, lanky kid who just looks like he's already a ballplayer. First pitch is a heater down the middle of the plate and the kid fouls the ball back. Next pitch is another heater, swinganamiss. Now you can hear all the chatter from the Cubs on the field and the parents in the stands... "One more! One more! Come on Buddy, one more!".
Next pitch is a fastball right down broadway and the kid takes a hack but is late with his swing. It's a bouncing ball to second base, and the second baseman fields the ball easily... but...
OH NO! First baseman is asleep, and doesn't run to the bag... so the second baseman double clutches... then throws the ball to let the first baseman catch and run to the bag at the same time. Nice play by little second baseman, and the first baseman is now in full possession of the ball and from my view, he can beat the runner to the bag easily. But just like his unfortunate panic move of freezing on the ground ball, he freezes as he runs to the bag. I mean he is right next to the bag but he's not stomping his foot on the pillow at all. He is looking, instead, at the runner barreling towards him, and he's clutching the ball in his glove out in front of him waiting, waiting, waiting.... (I turn to my dog and say "oh-oh, this is not good Slinkerfink!") So the runner arrives and with a deft move, he sticks his long right leg out to touch the bag and then veer to the outside, contortionist would have been proud of the somewhat Matrix move the kid makes to avoid the tag! But the tag is made, but high about chest level... while you can clearly see the foot well out in front of the body already on the base. "SAFE!!!!" yells the umpire and the kids start to go crazy, the tying run has scored. But...
No one is calling time out and the umpire isn't going to just stop play for nothing. Kid who is sitting on third on his own (because his third base coach is looking towards the on-deck circle to see who is next to bat). All of a sudden the kid on third breaks for home. Everyone screams for the first baseman to throw home, which he does... it's going to be close. "SAFE!!!" yells the home plate umpire. This time I disagree with the call, he looked out to me. Game over, the young Cubbies are out of the playoffs in the most cruel manner to lose a game... when you have your head up your arse and worry about umpires more than you do the play at hand. Kids start to cry, some throw their gloves in a temper tantrum, the coach is arguing with the first base umpire and the parents are going absolutely nuts.
"Slinks, we better go, it's going to get ugly" I say to my doggie, who is sniffing around the nearest tree from some reason. Sure enough, the coach is satisfied his team lost the other team won and he needs to control his kids and get them to buck up and go shake hands with the winners. Which they do, and all seems to be coming back in order. But one particular angry Dad is not appeased. He starts to yell so loud, even where I was situated, I could hear every curse word uttered... in front of the kids and all other smaller tykes there to watch big brother play baseball. So you think maybe some other parent or even the coach will tell the guy to shut up. Well, they didn't. In fact, they join in (not the coach, he's now trying to sit his guys on the grass to explain to them that sometimes this is just the way it happens in baseball... especially to any team that dares call themselves "Cubs". Okay, the last part he didn't say, I added that myself in my own head. So here is the very eerire scene, coach is sitting with kids trying to teach them about winning/losing, while a few feet to the left of the kids is a gang of parents now chasing the umpires towards the concession stand yelling all sorts of things. The umpires decide they had enough and make a beeline to their cars to just leave. Well, unfortunately for me, they are parked near where I'm standing. In particular nastiness, one mother was just unstoppable in her tirade against the umpire at first. A guy who made the right call. The home plate umpire was not really attacked because for some reason all the blame was being placed on the first base umpire for some reason.
I remind myself again that this is what I hate about little league baseball. Kids being put in emotionally charged situations as if they're major leaguers and the fans.... errr... parents acting like it's game seven of the World Series... just too much. So Slinky and I walk away from it all, but in our trek through a path from the park to our community, I notice now that the vitrolic Mom has now parked her car with her kid away from everyone and in a darker area of the parking lot. Said darker area is one my dog and I must pass. What I witnessed next was surreal. Mom is berating her kid, who upon closer inspection is the big, burly kid who was pitching for the Cubs. Mom has finger pointing right in his barrel chest saying things like "You cost us that game. Why didn't you strike him out? Huh? What's the matter with you?" All the kid could say in return was "It was the umpire's fault, not mine!" And Dad is in the passenger side smoking a cigarette. I glance his way as Slinks and I walk by, and he has this grin on his face like he's got some sort of sick pleasure out of the whole messy situation. I control my gestures so as not to show the man how utterly amazed I am at all this, but it was hard. I came home and thought "I'll never, ever, ever, ever volunteer to coach a little league team that plays in that league!" I'm going to keep that promise too. Every week they have an overflow crowd filling up all 8 fields with all these major league wannabe, parent pleasers and their sick parents.
There is something very unhealthy going on, but no one would dare call the police and say "Can you arrest them all for being stupid?"
