I had the honor of attending my friend Daniel’s Little League game the other night and it was so reminiscent.  The beautiful green field, the dust, the bugs, the bleachers, the parents (Yogi said it best, “Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets”) and the bench.  I haven’t been to a game in about a hundred years, probably not since himself was coaching, and really not much has changed but then again so much has changed.

The bench was filled with all manner of equipment.  The usual bats, balls, helmets, protective equipment for the catcher, and Gatorade bottles.  One of the things I remember about going to the games with himself was lugging the big orange cooler with the spout everywhere we went.  We’d set it at the end of the bench with a stack of waxy Dixie cups and the kids would go through gallons of water laced with Gatorade at every game.  Who knew plastic bottles filled with the stuff was in our future.

And then there was a girl on the team, not only on the team but on the mound, oh was that fabulous.  Hadn’t seen that before but how would I, not having kids of my own, there was no way for me to know the progression of girls in sports.  My understanding is that girls were formally permitted to join the teams in 1974; we didn’t see it in 1977 when we were attending the games it was far too early.

My friend Daniel was playing first base but he would later find himself behind the plate catching.  The kids were moved around, everybody batted and even though they took quite the beating the coaches were supportive and patient and the kids looked up to them.  To this day, I’m sure that many of the kids who played under himself remember him fondly.  He was a hell of a coach, the wonderful mix of discipline, educating and fun.  They might not remember me, I just kept the book, but I know like I know they remember him.  It never failed that we would be having dinner somewhere and one of them, all grown, would come up to us with wonderful and thankful greetings for himself.

In all the games I attended in the “old days” I don’t ever recall hearing the kids being told it’s still a live ball.  Of course it’s a live ball, what else would it be?  Well apparently a few of the kids get easily distracted.  The live ball thing was a given back then.  Maybe because the kids had only one or two extracurricular activities not the nonstop schedules they have today.  Maybe because the prevalence of ADD/ADHD (or recognition of ADD/ADHD) was pretty much unheard of the kid’s heads were in the game.  And there was practice, there were the endless drills, there were consistent coaches.   Dads weren’t working the perpetual over time hours that are needed today to make ends meet.   Whatever the reason everybody knew the ball was live.  Could not stop chuckling about that all through the game.

And it’s funny how it all comes back to you.  Just watch the ball hit the bat, just hit your cutoff man, don’t try and be a hero, just get on base, singles.  The barrage of baseballisms came back in a flash and so did my Jersey girl.  I can get loud, no surprise to anybody, so when things were really looking grim and everyone got quiet I don’t have to tell you what happened.

I did notice there is now a covering behind the plate so you can’t stand behind and see the pitches coming in.  Oh that used to be fun to second guess the ump, gone are those days.  You can’t yell “swing” now when the pitch is coming in to spur the opposing batter on.  Sorry, I couldn’t help it back then.

I had my camera with me and got some wonderful shots, all easily downloaded and up on Pinterest http://pinterest.com/slc1toby/a-night-of-little-league/ , no such thing as Pinterest then and the film from my Nikon FE had to be developed.  Oh boy…

I must say I had a moment’s hesitation about going to the game, not knowing what might be stirred up in my still adjusting head after my divorce.  I’m so glad I decided to go, for Daniel’s sake and for mine.  Even though there is a K in the book for my marriage,  the further from the later years I get the more I am able to appreciate the wonderful person himself was back then and how his legacy will be cemented for those boys.  I know like I know they were good times worth savoring again.