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Ghost Runner on First!

As another baseball season winds down, I’ve been thinking about the future of the game. Baseball is losing the hearts of the kids to soccer and a host of other activities. Why is that? Baseball flourished through the Depression, a couple of World Wars, the summer of Love, and it even did OK through the 70′s. When was the last time you saw a group of kids in a pick up baseball game? When was he last time you saw kids flipping baseball cards against a wall, winners keepers? Actually, the cards to too frigging expensive today. I doubt many kids have enough to even risk gambling them. Who can afford to have “doubles” today? But I’m getting off track, the cost of baseball cards, and baseball in general, is the subject of a post in the very near future.

Who is to blame? I point the finger at just about everybody. Parents don’t seem willing to put in the time required to foster a love of baseball in their kids. I’d blame society and culture in general, but that is really just a reflection of the parent’s priorities. Certainly, we can blame Major League Baseball. As the entity with the most to lose financially, they have really dropped the ball on this one. However, today I’m focusing on the parents.

Baseball is not like any other sport. Well, it might be like cricket, but I’ve never really understood cricket, so it’s hard for me to say. Baseball is not broken up into convenient 24 second segments, nor does it have the finite time limit so critical to almost all other major sports. A baseball game is done when somebody wins. It’s that simple. But I don’t think that works well for today’s two income, two kids, one mini-van, over-scheduled family.

Also, baseball is harder to learn. As Ted Williams said, hitting a pitched ball is the hardest thing to do in sports. In what other athletic endeavor does a 30% success rate make you a superstar? Parents today don’t want to put in the hours it takes to help a child get good at the game. I’ve been there, done that. I’ve thrown thousands of batting practice pitches, countless grounders, and umpteen fly balls to a short, scrawny little boy who has turned himself into a better than average 8 year old ballplayer. I’m not some frustrated jock forcing the game on my son. Many days, he dragged out there, my arm still sore from the 100 pitches I threw the day before. I’ve coached pee-wee baseball the last three years. It was painfully obvious that many of the kids never touched a baseball at home.

Nope, it is much easier to throw him on the soccer field and tell him to “kick the ball that way.” Also baseball, with its one-on-one battles within a team game design, doesn’t fit in well with today’s emphasis on a child’s self-esteem, earned or not. It’s kind of hard to hide the fact that you were 0-4 with 4 K’s. It’s really easy to hide in the roving pack of chaos otherwise known as a youth soccer game. Baseball amplifies both the successes and failures on the field, requiring somebody to take the blame or the accolades. In other words, it promotes personal responsibility. That is not exactly in keeping with current parenting and educational theories.

Even for the kids the don’t necessarily want to play the game, it used to be there for them as an obsession. When I was a kid (and I’m not that old!) every kid in the neighborhood or the school knew baseball. They rooted for the local team, had a favorite player, and checked the box scores religiously. In short, they cared. How many kids do you know today that really care about baseball? How many kids can read a box score? I know one, my son. Baseball is not given to fads of popularity, and by nature of the game cannot really be dominated by one personality, except maybe for short periods of time in connection with some historic event. (Sosa and McGwire chasing Ruth, Cal Ripken’s streak in the last weeks, etc) Kids that don’t grow up on baseball will most likely not be fans as adults. There will not be a “Michael Jordan” of baseball to help save he game.

So what can we do to save baseball? The parents are mostly hopeless. If they ever did decide to care they would probably demand some government funded program (run through the public schools) that teaches their kids about baseball. Major League Baseball itself is a big part of the problem. I’ll tackle that monstrosity next time. Cuba seems to keep the kids interested. But maybe Castro just forces them to play. Actually, baseball in thriving in Latin America. The kids don’t have gloves, use a stick for a bat and rags for a ball, but they still love the game and play it from sun-up to sun-down. Kind of like me and my best friend back at Grissom AFB in Indiana. It was one on one baseball, with liberal help from our friends, the ghost runners. The bases were trees, and local ground rules dictated that a ball passing over a certain branch was a home run. The bat was plastic, so was the ball. We wore gloves, not because we actually needed them with a plastic bat and ball, but because baseball is played with a glove. It never seemed to be an option to us.

Do kids today even know what a ghost runner is?

{ 3 } Comments

  1. michele | October 22, 2002 at 9:01 am | Permalink

    We must be the exception to the rule. My son is nine, and obsession doesn’t even begin to describe his love for the game.

    He plays baseball; spring, summer and fall leagues. We stand out there in 100 degree heat and freezing cold evenings to watch him play. Every coach he had has said that the depth at which he knows the game is amazing for someone his age. He never has to be told when to cover a base or when to bunt.

    He loves MLB equally. He can recite every player’s stats, tell you the standings in every division without looking at the paper, and give you a historical rundown of every team.

    It’s the one on one play that he loves the most. When he pitches, his game face is intense. He loves the battle between pitcher and batter, especially if the batter is one of his friends. I find that the older the kids get, the more the Little League teams thin out into those who love the game, leaving behind those who were playing just to play.

    More kids definitely play soccer these days. We could never get into it. It’s not the same excitement or thrill.

    Baseball is the only sport he plays during those seasons and the only extra curricular activity he engages in when the season is on.

    Sorry Chris for the length of this comment. You struck a nerve with me. Great post.

  2. Adam Bridge | March 15, 2003 at 3:00 am | Permalink

    There has always been baseball. Mostly on the radio, Waite Hoyt broadcasting the Cincinnati Reds, my dad driving, a portable radio on the porch or while fishing. Box seats were, well, to my mind they were boxes you sat on. Then I got to go to Crosley Field.

    I love baseball, but I’m not a fan. I follow the team I’ve made my own: the Reds while I was growing up, the A’s when I went to college and they moved to Oakland at the same time, now the Sacramento River Cats. So I know the players for my team, but I don’t follow much more than the standings and who’s hot.

    But I keep score. It helps me watch the game and learn. I taught my boys to score.

    I can vividly remember the first major league game I took them to. Opening day 1988, Oakland Coliseum. We drove into the Bay Area, parked at the Concord BART station, and took it to the ballpark. You walk across a raised bridge from the station to the park, then curve around the outfield to one of the entrance gates. This was before the tragedy that grew a monstrosity in the outfield for Al Davis and the Raiders. As as we walked across the pedestrian bridge, almost at the end, there was the crack of the ball on the bat. And it gave me goosebumps! It was like I was two places: there and walking on the street beside Crosley Field on a humid summer evening and there was my dad with me, going through the turnstyle, and there I was with my boys, three guys and two ghosts. All alive.

    So I love baseball. Because you can watch, and think, and learn and savor. And pass it along.

  3. Ron Loveless | June 29, 2003 at 5:05 pm | Permalink

    I like the subject matter here and can definitely relate. Speaking of ghost runners, do kids even know the old sandlot rule for determining first ups. While I do not recall the name for the ritual, it involved one of the two chosen captains tossing the bat to the other captain. The other captain had to catch the bat about mid way on the length of the bat. Then they went hand over hand until there was only room for one more hand near the handle of the bat. The hand closes to the handle won first ups. Of course, this assumed that both captains agreed that there was no bottle caps. That is one of the captains could not envelop the handle of the bat with their cupped hand.

    Does anyone else remember this? Did this little ritual of tossing the bat for first ups have a name? If you know, please tell me.

    –ron