Tee-ball Toddler in Blue and Red

I just had to stare. It was the most incredible exhibition of total mayhem I had ever experienced. Tiny bodies running in all directions, slamming into one another then falling to the ground in piles of two, three, and sometimes four. Shouts of "run", "stop", "go", and "gimme" could be heard over the ping of metal smacking leather. It was like nothing I had ever had ever seen. It was . . . Tee-ball!

I sat high on a grassy slope as my grandson, Landon, and his teammates ran onto the field in a four and five year old sea of blue and red. The Braves were in the house and were looking to take down the Mariners under a clear, cool Texas sky.

With arms stretched wide, coaches from both sides tried to herd their newbies into position; Mariners onto the field and the Braves toward an aluminum bench along the first base line. It was like watching cowboys with their ropes whippin' over head trying to corral a herd of ferrets with A.D.D.

As each batter was escorted to the batter's box the coach could be seen speaking to the young player, obviously explaining the basics. "Now, when you get to the tee take your time, watch the ball and hit it hard. Then you run to first base as fast as you can. Got it?" To which the batter would always nod affirmatively.

One after another, the batters would approach the tee, address the ball, then swing like a pro. There were lots of grounders, a few flies and even fewer misses, but no matter what the skill level, almost every batter shared a common concept; when you hit the ball you just stand and watch it roll, never flinching, never moving off of home plate . . . standing until the coaches and the crowd shouted in unison . . . "RUN!"

As the ball rolled into the field any sign of control disappeared with every player between first and third converging as one on the small white sphere. They came from everywhere, leaving the bases unprotected. The first baseman made a dive for the ball as it approached mid field just ahead of three second-basemen, a short stop and two others who just seemed to be passing through.

In their passion to make the play the youngsters would pile-on as if making a gang tackle in football. There would be pushing and shoving to get the ball until the adults were able to sort out the mess, then they would all return to a position of their own choice awaiting the next hit. In the course of two batters, Landon played third base twice, shortstop twice, stood on the pitcher's mound until a coach made him move, meandered over to a spot between right field and first base and then landed back on third. For all practical purposes he was a freelance roving position player.

No matter how out of control it may have seemed on the surface, Tee-ball is a learning experience for these young ballplayers. It's also a time to just cut loose and be a kid. I hope they come to love the game as much as I did at that age in a sandlot on Midway Road with a chicken wire backstop. I also hope they grow to love the game the way that I do today close to 50-years later. With a bit of luck maybe that's how it will be for our little Tee-ball toddler in blue and red.