T Ball - Stop & Smell The Corn Dogs!

It’s a sure sign of spring.  Last Saturday I drove by our community ball park and it was packed. There was no doubt it was Opening Day.  What seemed to be thousands of parents and grandparents were crowded around the baseball diamonds to encourage their future major league players.  Please don’t question me - I’m sure that most parents at the ballpark will tell you their child is going to make it to the big leagues - Triple A at the very least. 

It seems to me that all ballparks have one thing in common: the bigger the field is, the more serious the game becomes. That’s why my favorite game is the one with the smallest field - T Ball.  Hands down, it’s the best game to watch in the world - other than bikini beach volleyball, of course. 

I like it because most kids don’t even know the rules, nor do they care.  It’s  wonderful organized chaos with colorful uniforms and imitation leather gloves.  The coaches try to coach, but the parents, most of whom never played baseball in their lives, are screaming instructions at their kids like they're managing the New York Yankees in the World Series. 

“Run, Jacob, Run!”

“No, no!  Go back, Jacob, go back!”

“Keep your foot on the base.”

“Touch him with the ball!”

I don’t think you hear comments like that in the major leagues. And you certainly won’t hear: 

“Pay attention!”

“Put your hat back on!”

“Pull up your pants!”

“Quit throwing rocks!”

“Do you have to potty?”

I have seen an umpire stop a game because several players from both teams had to go to the  bathroom. Forget T ball, that was Pee ball. 

When you watch a T ball game, you’ll quickly notice that there are about 2 or 3 kids on each team who understand what’s going on. The rest of them would probably rather be home watching Peppa Pig, especially if they’re  playing in the outfield. 

All three of my boys began their T ball careers in the outfield, specifically right field.  The old saying, “he was out in left field”,  would be more accurate if it was, “he was out in right field”.  For those of you not well versed in this culture, right field is kind of T ball purgatory. You play right field because balls are rarely hit in that direction, making it the perfect place for players who are too young, or  uninterested in the game. But, playing right field is as boring as a lecture on micro economics.  So you can see kids entertaining themselves by looking for bugs, throwing dirt, and in extreme cases, laying on the ground with their glove over their faces.  My youngest son Brad had a unique habit of counting all the people in the bleachers, which was quite a feat because he could only count to ten. 

On the rare occasion when a ball is hit into right field, the right fielder never makes the play alone.  He will almost always get help from the first baseman, second baseman, center fielder, and probably the left fielder. They usually end up in a scrum, fighting over the ball like dogs over hamburger meat.  When one of them finally comes up with it, the runner is rounding third. 

I videotaped Brad’s first    T ball game years ago and watched it the other day.  It’s amazing how totally uninterested he was. That’s because the only reason he was “playing” ball was because his friends were out there.  He undoubtedly got more enjoyment running around the ballpark than he did playing in right purgatory.    But when he was in the game, he often carried his outfield shenanigans to the infield, sometimes bringing the game to a complete halt.  He particularly enjoyed harassing his first and second base teammates.  He would duck walk between the bases then turn his hat backwards and get right in their faces until the coaches physically put him back in his proper spot.  

A lot of parents would have been embarrassed with their child’s behavior, but I found it quite  entertaining. That’s because Brad was my third son to play T ball.   I’m a slow learner, but after two kids I finally  came to a realization about my boys being baseball stars. It wasn't gonna happen. Now I see T ball for what it’s  supposed to be - a way for kids to have fun, and for parents to judge their children's interest in the sport going forward. 

I also had the foresight to record a post first-game interview with my son on video. Here’s a partial transcript:

“Brad, did you have fun playing T ball?

“Yes sir.” 

“Did you hit the ball?”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you catch the ball when it came to the outfield?”

“Yes sir.” 

“Oh, I must have missed it.  When did you do that?”

“When you wasn’t  looking.”

And with that, he looked over his shoulder, and made the most important   statement concerning the game I’d heard him make. 

“Dad!  I’ve gotta now.  If I’m not back in the dugout I’m gonna miss my treat!”

Interview over.  

Hopefully other parents  can learn this lesson faster than I did. It’s just a game - treat it that way. 

Take time to enjoy the moment that will vanish all too fast. It’s T ball, a rite of childhood passage.  Take time to stop and smell the corn dogs. 

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Follow me at: Joe Hobby Comedian - Writer