Thursday, July 07, 2011

Coaches 6; Kids 5

First off, I want to thank everyone for their input on that last post. I am taking some time off next week, and I think I will go to a couple of local shelters and solicit their advice, although I'm pretty sure at this point that another cat will be coming to join us soon. *gulp*

Now, on to Little League!

I live next door to a small park that has a Little League field. Most years, the games start up around mid-May and wind up when school lets out the third week in June. This year? They're still going strong.

And I will tell you right now, those kids are OVER IT. It's hot and it's humid and they've been playing ball six days a week, sometimes seven, for almost two months now, and I don't think there's a single kid over there right now who really wants to be there. You can see it in the way they just kind of languish in the outfield, and listlessly trot around the bases when they get a hit.

Oh, and the parents are over it, too. Earlier in the season, the stands would be full of parents and siblings. Last night, there was ONE person in the stands. One. The parents just drop off the kids, and swing by a couple of hours later to pick them up again.

But you know who DOES want to be there? The coaches. Boy howdy, those coaches are still hot and heavy to PLAY SOME BALL, DAMMIT. As the number of kids has dwindled, the number of coaches has remained the same. Last night, there were six coaches. For five kids. They didn't even have enough players for ONE team, let alone two, but there they were, practicing batting and shagging balls.

You know what I think? I think those coaches should start an ADULT baseball or softball league. Then they could play all the games they wanted, and leave those poor kids alone.

Maybe I'll go leave a sign-up sheet in the dugout. Just a little hint.


Badass Nature Girl said...

Ah, but that's the thing..they can't get away with yelling like they do with the adults.

rockygrace said...

Oh, and I forgot to mention the dad who brought his kid to the field to practice batting on the Fourth of July. At noon.

It was a kabillion degrees out, and that dad made that poor kid hit balls for an hour.

And the kid was all, "But, DAD, you said we could go to the picnic!"

And Dad's all, "Just one more bucket of balls, and then we'll go."

What an asshole.