Inside Baseball

"That's four runs!" Great. How in the world did we let that one slip through our fingers - again? All we had to do was score one run for the win. Instead, three up, three down, then we let them come back and score four to tie it. Amazing.

"OK, let's score some runs. 15, you're up. 42 and 8, you're on deck." And now we're more than halfway down the lineup. Not that the top of the lineup did their job last inning.

"Batter up!" Oh, brother, not again! Why does her dad have to coach from the bleachers every time she gets up to bat? She'd probably be a decent hitter if Daddy wasn't giving her a complex.

"Strike!" Huh. She was looking over at the bleachers before the umpire even called it.

"That's all right 15, you got two more. Focus on the ball, quit worryin' about distractions. This is just like practice. Have some faith in yourself!" Have faith in yourself. If I had a nickel for every time I said that to an 8-year-old with a bat...

"Safe!" Merry Christmas. But we'll take it. How many days this very week did we practice batting? We're never going to win with infield dribblers like that. But would you look at that coach yelling at his kid for fumbling the ball? Note to self: chill out; screaming just makes you look stupid.

"Batter up!" Here comes God's Gift to Softball. At least her Mom thinks so. She'd probably be happier in ballet shoes. But no, she's got to follow in Mama's footsteps and be a Collegiate Softball Princess. Poor kid. No telling how much time and money her parents put into fancy bats and private training. Too bad her heart's not in it.

"Come on 42, let's put the ball in play! Have faith in yourself!" And stride toward the pitcher.

"Strike 3!" You have to swing to hit. I'm pretty sure we've worked on this. More than once. Do those people really think yelling at the umpire is going to get them anywhere? Sure, his strike zone is... variable... but at least it's been equally screwed up for both teams. I'm sure it's my fault somehow, though. I'll take the blame for the bad weather, too.

"Let's go 8, it's your turn to crush that ball! Have some faith!" Only one out. One runner on base. This one will strike out and then we'll be at the top of the lineup. Maybe if we're lucky we'll get a couple of runs after all.

"Strike!" And her parents complain that she's at the bottom of the lineup? What do they expect when they only make half the practices and never swing the bat or throw the ball at home? Do I have some kind of magic potion - oh great - infield fly.

"BACK! BACK! BACK!" Oh -

"Out!" Crap. Unbelievable. Sometimes these kids are worse than squirrels.

"Hats and gloves! Hats and gloves! Hustle out. Same positions. Hang on - 42, you go to center field. 15, you're on third." No, Sis, we are not having this conversation again in front of the whole ballpark. Your little girl needs to be in center field because there's a batter coming up who one-hopped it to the fence her last time at bat. You'd think a guy's own family might cut him some slack. At least I only have one sibling to get bent out of shape. I heard about this guy over in Bryant who had eight or nine grandkids playing on the same team. Crazy.

"Outside!" Why is this guy arguing with me again. I've already told him a dozen times who gets to pitch when, we're trying to balance fairness with winning, blah blah blah. Do these parents think I haven't already thought of doing things some other way? I didn't just wander in off the street. Do they have any clue how many hours I lay awake at night staring at the ceiling ciphering on how to make these girls better as a team? Why do I even bother. Here, you be the coach.

"C'mon, just put a strike in there. Don't listen to the chatter. Have faith in yourself!" This has been nothing but a pain in the butt. All the time, all the money, all the energy - and what do I have to show for it? Last place and a hornets' nest of whining, angry parents.

"Batter up!" Let's just get this over with.

"IT'S COMIN' TO YOU 42! CATCH IT IN THE AIR! CATCH IT! Good try." Just not good enough.

"Ballgame!" Hey, that could be our motto: Pineville Patriots: When Your Best Just Isn't Good Enough. It certainly captures the spirit of this season.

"Line up. Good game." Yeah right. Good game for the winners.

"Hey coach, do we get to play them again? We're gonna beat them next time!"

"Coach, did you see my hit?"

"Uncle Mike, I tried so hard to catch that long fly ball!"

"Hey Coach, thanks for lettin' me play first base!"

"Coach, did I have a better attitude this time? Or do I need to run to the pole some more?"

"Dad, I tagged that girl out clean, that umpire wasn't even watching!"

"My Daddy was here! Did he see me run home?"

"Good game, Coach. We'll get 'em next time."

"Daddy, when I'm 8 will you be my coach too?"

I love this game.

"Practice tomorrow at 6!"