JB pulled the neckline of his shirt up to his mouth and chewed on it; anything to cover up the trembling lower lip. He took off his hat and wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve; everyone watching knew there were tears waiting to fall. His teammates offered encouragement. “You can do it, it’s ok”.
The coach came to the mound to settle him down. Two runs had already scored and the bases were loaded with only one out. JB and his team had to dig deep to hold on to their lead. “It’s all good. I believe in ya kid. You’re alright.” And then to all of them, “we can do this, but we all need to work together.”
The next pitch was a sizzler, dead center in the strike zone. And the next one. JB and the team held it together, and by the end of the inning, they still led, and I was the one in tears. No kidding.
It’s amazing what grabs our attention sometimes, but I’ve discovered the Little League World Series, and have become a fan.
I grew up with a lot of baseball, because it was the sport of my parent’s generation; and their parents. I still remember my grandparents listening to the Milwaukee Braves on the radio, while the TV remained off. And in later years when my other grandma was in her 90’s and living in a nursing home, I knew not to visit her during a Milwaukee Brewers radio broadcast, unless I wanted to sit there and listen with her.
I like sports, but with certain qualifications. The only professional sport I follow is football, and truthfully, after my childhood, where Sundays in the fall were fashioned around Packer games on TV, I am living proof that once a cheesehead, always a cheesehead. I love college sports, but they seem to be spinning out of control at a faster and faster rate with ludicrous salaries for head coaches, players that jump teams when they are no longer the anointed stars they were in high school, and fans who idolize 20 year olds.
But there is something about Little League. I’d like to think that egos can still be checked, sportsmanship can still be honored, and teamwork can still be taught. I’d like to think the vast majority of these players will balance baseball with other interests and not have to face surgery as a teen for overuse and stress on their developing arms. I’d like to think parents won’t strap their family’s financial needs, current or future, on the back of a 12 year old. I’d like to think over zealous moms and dads will let the coaches coach, and the umps ump. But I know that’s not always the case.
In games I watched this past weekend, a 4’9” player came in for a 6’2” teammate, because they all play. I ached for the player who wore distress on his face after accidently injuring an opposing player (a fat lip was the end result); I smiled when a player apologized to the opposing coach for demonstrating a bit too much exuberance when he hit a home run; I loved it when the 13 year old boy stumbled over his words as a 13 year old should and said yes, he was kind of intimidated by facing Mo’Ne Davis, a 13 year old young woman who pitched a shutout Friday, an unreal accomplishment for any player at any level.
As I’ve become more of an active sports fan in retirement, I see the tremendous relationship between the skills learned as a member of a team and how they translate in work, relationships, and leadership. Playing through adversity, good sportsmanship, managing time, developing a thicker skin, digging a little deeper, becoming more resilient, caring for and wanting the best for your teammates. I wish I’d learned those skills when I was 12 or 16 or 20.
JB and his team did lose their game. In the last inning, the opponent got hot, tied the game and won on an error that could just have easily happened in the big leagues. But if they continue to display the sportsmanship, compassion and character I saw in this game, they will be winners in life.
My favorite story of great sportsmanship occurred at the Ohio Division III high school girls track meet in June 2012 when Meghan Vogel, about to come in last place with 20 meters to go in a 3,200 meter race, came upon Arden McMath who had collapsed on the track. Rather than pass McMath up to place second last rather than last in the race, Vogel helped McMath to her feet, place McMath's arm around her shoulders, carried her to the finish line and pushed McMath across the finish line ahead of herself. I get a little choked up just thinking about it. We can learn so much from young athletes.
Mercy, I thought I'd replied earlier but I'm still learning about this blog stuff. Anyway, thank you for sharing this story. What a remarkable act. Yes, we can learn so much for kids.
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