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Did Someone Order ...
by Dave
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
I was at a Little League regular season baseball game this past weekend at one of the regional LL meccas, Toms River, NJ. You might think this was just a pleasant afternoon at the park but I take my job seriously. I was there observing in order to collect more material for my softball blog! I am a student of the game, after all. And that's a good thing because I saw something while I was there which is very relevant to girls fastpitch softball.
I was pretty impressed with the level of play in Toms River. There was one kid on the field who was easily bigger than any adult. Sometimes you see a kid like that and guess that his coordination hasn't caught up with his body yet. That wasn't the case with this kid. He was as coordinated and athletic as he was large. Luckily for the team he was playing against, he had used up his allotment of pitching for the week. He settled for playing first. I wasn't surprised to see the entire outfield standing on the warning track when this kid came to bat. I also wasn't surprised to see him walked frequently by a pretty savy pitcher!
Toms River has some excellent baseball in their town rec leagues. Anyone familiar with Little League knows a Toms River team has made it well into the tournament several times and won the whole shootin' match in 1998 with a 12-9 victory over Japan. Some of those players are just now trying to work their ways through professional baseball's minor leagues. Other towns nearby have produced MLB players too including former All-Star Al Leiter. Needless to say, the area takes its baseball rather seriously.
The game I watched was very exciting. It went to the fifth 1-0 with numerous good plays being made by several players. The pitching was well above anything I have personally seen in terms of 12 year olds. I have seen some good kids working out inside the Toms River indoor facility from time to time. But in general, the level of kids I see in my own town isn't even close to what comes out of Toms River in volumes, even just at that one game. I'm told the Leiter family may have something to do with that!
So the tension was pretty high. Runners on base were at a premium. Several attempted bunts didn't work out. Baserunners were caught stealing. Great plays were made in the field with runners in scoring position with two outs. It was a very well played game, played by focused kids. Then the unthinkable happened.
The unthinkable thing which turned the tide of this game did not involve any sort of play or error made by a stellar fielder. It did not involve a long ball by the big kid. It did not involve a pitcher getting wild or hitting a batter or any other thing you might possibly expect. What happened was one team suffered a mental breakdown. That breakdown resulted in several runs being scored by the opposition in one fateful inning.
I expect many did not know what had caused the breakdown. Coaches were dumfounded, having believed they had prepared this team well for the mental stresses of the game. They were shocked to watch their team fall to pieces because of an external stimulus they had not anticipated. Mental toughness be damned. This team had experienced the unthinkable. Billy's mom brought him a glazed pretzel from the snackbar!
Many present at the game that day did not notice the event. Billy was out of the game at this point. Few saw mom bring Billy the pretzel. Nobody saw him eat it ... except his teammates. I wouldn't have noticed this had I not been standing next to the dugout, talking with one of the team's coaches. There was only one way into that dugout and it was through me. Mom said, "can you please excuse me for a moment?" I replied, "sure" and got out of the way.
The pretzel looked and smelled extraordinary. The snackbar was just about 200 feet from where I was standing. I hadn't had lunch yet and a quick glance at my watch told me it was now about 12:30. My mouth watered and I heard my stomach growl once. I thought about leaving my perch and heading over to the line now forming at the snackbar. But the game was getting exciting and I opted to stay and watch.
A few minutes later, one father approached the dugout and begged my pardon so he could talk to his kid. The kid hadn't done particularly well his first time or two up and now was looking around for a batting helmet to take his next turn at the plate. The father offered probably the same advice he always does. "Keep your hands back. Lay off the high ones. Be patient. Pick a good pitch to hit." The kid listened attentively and then said, "Hey dad? Can you do me a favor? Just one little thing. Can you get me a pretzel?" I won;t repeat what the father said in response but suffice it to say it went something like, "a pretzel? Are you out of your *&^%$#@ mind? Just play the game and we'll worry about eating later."
Then a head popped out of the dugout and the kid attached to hit yelled, "Mom! Mom! Come here, please." When mom appeared, the head said, "can you PLEASE get me a pretzel?" This mother decided she would pretend that she could not hear her kid. She yelled back, "I can't hear you, I'll talk to you after the game."
Next I heard kids arguing about something and the coach yelled back at them, "guys, get your heads into the game. Quit clowning. We have a chance to win this one." he couldn't have been more wrong. The team had no chance of winning from that point forward. The kids were completely distracted by their stomachs. When my own stomach had growled moments earlier, I looked around in embarrassment to see if anyone had heard it. Luckily nobody had. But within a few minutes, I heard some unreal sounds emanating from the dugout.
One kid turned to another and said, "what was that?" The kid looked uneasily back and said, "that was my stomach, I didn't eat anything for breakfast." The kid might have been able to make it through this game but the presence of the pretzel in the dugout had sent him over the edge. All he could think about now was food.
I won't go into what happened after this "event" but things did not go well for the team who had received a room-service-for-one delivery. All the kids except Billy lost focus. But, as I said, Billy wasn't even in the game at this point. The kids who still had to hit and play the field had lost all focus and it showed.
Well, that's my story for the day and it reminds me of a day a long time ago when I coached 8 and 9 year olds. One kid received a special delivery of cheese fries sometime in the 4th inning. I was too involved with the game to observe the delivery but I did come to learn about it when I turned to tell the kid she was going in to play the field. When I found her in the dugout, she was holding one of those warped paper plates with maybe just two or three fries on it and the residual cheese spilling over the sides and onto the ground ... and her uniform. I started to tell her she was going in and realized she was in no condition to play. My first thoughts were "I'll hold your plate while you go run to your mom and get cleaned up." But I knew full well that I would not be able to control myself around those last three cheese fries and I didn't want to embarras myself. So I let her sit for another half inning.
My point today is game time is not meal time. I understand that sometimes you do not get a chance to eat enough food before the game gets going but you can't simply supplement with cheese fries or glazed pretzels during the actual game. You've got to find another way to do it. Perhaps a piece of fruit or a small bag of something in the bat bag. And don't forget a little napkin or paper towel, preferably with a little extra water or something to get the sugars off your little one's fingers. Better yet, bring something she can quickly eat before a game starts. It only takes a few minutes to eat an apple, a bag of pretzels, or maybe half of a small sandwich before you have to be on the field. If you just do not have time to get enough food into your body, how about a bottle of Gatorade to stave off the appetite for an hour?
Tournament players often face a difficult time trying to get enough to eat to keep themselves standing. I know we often have schedules like 8:00 first game, 9:30 or 9:45 second game, 12:00 third game, and 1:45 begins the elimination round. My kids don't particularly care for breakfast mostly because their school days include lunch around 11 or 11:30. I know one kid whose school lunch break is at 9:30 am! And during the week, we tend to eat dinner at 5:00 so we can do our homework and still have time to pitch or take a few swings in the basement. The typical tournament day is not conducive to good eating habits.
What we try to do is get the kids to eat anything in the car on the way to the location, drink a Gatorade during games one and two, maybe eat a Powerbar or some fruit between games 2 and 3, and then, if there is time, perhaps eat something more substantial before the elimination round. Many times our kids have too much adrenaline flowing to allow themselves to eat. The one thing they agree to pick on is some cut up fresh fruit. We either buy something already made up at the local supermarket or, if time permits, buy an assortment ourselves and cut it up. And, and, and we always bring enough for all the kids on the team if they want some.
I have never read any book on etiquette. I am not in competition with Martha Stewart or any other stalwart of the field when it comes to proper manners. Nobody ever said of me, he is this or that but at least he has good manners. However, there is one thing I will not do and that is consume an entire meal while somebody sits next to me without one and drools on themselves. This I learned in Kindergarten.
The way I understand things, the concept of manners developed spontaneously as a means toward promoting good relationships among people. If something is referred to as "good manners," that something usually prevents one from doing something which might cause physical or psychic harm to another and thereby make them angry. We say "please" so the person to whom we are directing our request understands that we will appreciate them when they comply. We say "thank you" in order to acknowledge that we are not some spoiled brat who has absolutely no appreciation for whatever we are thankful for. We refrain from eating glazed pretzels in the dugout because we recognize that while everyone else is also probably hungry, they don't have a glazed pretzel. We refrain from eating cheese fries in the dugout so our teammates do not begin some sort of brawl in order to get in line to ask for "just one of those."
What I'm telling you is it is the height of rudeness to bring your kid some sort of delicious snack in the middle of a game. If you can't be more discreet, don't do it. Not only is it the height of rudeness, it takes not only your kid out of the game but the entire team. If I catch you sneaking food into the dugout, chances are pretty good I'm going to be mad. I'm very definitely going to be mad at the parent and I'm also going to think less of the kid. I understand how things work in rec ball and when I'm dealing with 8s and 9s, I will quickly forgive everyone and not make it into a big deal. But if I'm coaching a tournament team, say 12U or 14U, trust me, you have tried my patience beyond its breaking point. If you're going to bring meals into the dugout for your kid, she had better be not just one of the best on the team but an indispensable member without whom we cannot win, or she is going to sit.
Well, that's it. I'm going to go eat breakfast now. For some reason I'm having trouble concentrating on writing at the moment.Labels: coaching, Conduct, parenting
 
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