The Bombers Go All the Way!

Last night was the final game of fall ball for my son’s baseball team, “the Bombers.”  Dressed in cherry red and navy blue uniforms with cursive letters on the front of their jerseys, this scrappy group of misfits looked fresh out of the post World War 2 era.  We were playing our last game against the formidable team, dubbed the Pirates “A” team.  They were an elite team of polished players who poached good players from other teams and held tryouts to man their roster with only the best, relegating the rest to the “B” team. 

Dressed in all white, the Pirates looked pristine prancing out to their positions.  Their coach chewed tobacco on the 3^rd base line and yelled orders as each player solemnly walked to the plate. 

The Pirates’ dugout was serious and quiet, as the team patiently listened to coach’s strategy and laid out their game plan.  Our dugout, on the other hand, was mass chaos, as our coaches focused on getting the players to actually stay in the dugout rather than running off to go potty or doodling in the dirt.    

As the parents, we just hoped it wasn’t a blowout.  “Watch the ball!  Stay ready!  Bend your knees!,” we yelled anxiously from the sidelines.   

The Pirates were undefeated and had a reputation for man handling their competition.  They were “in it to win it” and we were pretty much in it to…. well, just to be in it.  They lacked the uniqueness of our team though.  We had Joey – a cross eyed, small kid with a crackly high voice, who was too young to be on our team, but we needed players and let him on anyway.  Joey was the one who had to go potty every 30 seconds. 

Mick was tall and lanky but slow as an elephant and about as disinterested as one too.  Cory was a couple years too young and came up to some of the pirates belts in height.  But, we kept him on because he was going to be good and his dad coached the team.  

We were a determined bunch.  By some happenstance, Joey always managed to get on base, and we had Luca.  Yes, Luca Zarky - our best player.  Bigger, taller, and could hit the *** out of the ball.  We all cheered when Luca came on base and silently prayed that he would wallop one out to center field far enough so little Joey could get around the bases.  Try as he might, Joey, ran with his chest first and head and legs behind him, pumping his little arms and skidding his feet with each step.  We all just held our breath.  “Safe” was the call…. Whew. 

Oh dear, I sighed, it was going to be one of those game where you watched with one eye closed and a silent prayer on your lips. 

With half our kids big and uncoordinated, and the other half small and zippy, we looked like easy Pickens for the Pirates.  They would raid our ship, claim our booty and be off in the sunset before we could say, “Strike three.”  Yikes.  All the parents knew the odds weren’t in our favor.  But, our kids could have cared less.  Through our weekly practices, they had grown in camaraderie.  They liked to talk to each other out in the field and cheer each other on when we were hitting. 

Then something happened.    

It was like something clicked.  We caught ground balls, threw to first and GOT OUTS.   Tyler played 3^rd base, threw to Luca on 1^st and got out after out.  This was a big play that we had been working on in practice.  Another force out came when Tyler scooped up a ground ball, ran and slid into 3^rd, just barely beating the runner.   I couldn’t believe it.  Our defense actually looked better than the opposing teams.’  Our practices were paying off.  They had worked on the little things, like catching, throwing accurately, picking up ground balls, running in a straight line to the bases and not twirling in the outfield.  And it was working. 

Halfway through the game, we were winning 9 to 3, and I could see the other teams’ coaches start to get nervous… and angry.  The next inning, they got 4 runs, but our boys continued onward, like nothing had happened.  We got to the plate and scored three more, winning the game 12 to 10. 

At the end of the game, we commemorated the season with personalized trophies and team photos and our coach congratulated our little team on a winning season! 

Last season, we were easily one of the worst teams in the league and now we had beaten the undefeated Pirates.

I looked at their happy faces in the cold, brisk evening, and each face gleamed in the full harvest moon.  Our beloved Bombers couldn’t have been happier.  They knew they had accomplished something big and had a blast doing it. 

That night, going to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking of our team’s accomplishment.  In a way, my son’s little league is like the big league of life we adults find ourselves playing.  We may have a losing season, but if we work on our weaknesses, stay focused on having fun and making friends, we create a winning atmosphere.  We have to keep plugging along, practicing the basics, waiting for that “something” to click.  I think that “click” has a lot to do with staying positive and working on improving the “small things.” 

Our team didn’t go to the batting cages once.  We practiced the team skills of working together, throwing and catching, and fielding.  In life, sometimes it’s not about the big “at bat” of a job interview or a big presentation at work that wins the game.  It’s the little things like praying with your son before bed, watching his favorite show, “Call of the Wildman,” with him and encouraging his current interest in the book, Moby Dick, that make the difference.  (Yes, Moby Dick..... a tall tale for next time….)