Tee Ball III 'My first groin pull'

Hi everyone.

I hope you had a good holiday.  I did. 

Tonight's practice had a new wrinkle.  We scrimmaged.  It is important before we move forward that you remove all preconceptions you might have regarding the word scrimmage and the rules generally associated with baseball and its derivatives.  Instead, try to think of a scrimmage as an opportunity for even more 3 -  5 year olds to run amok and parents to shake their heads.  Scrimmage = Entropy Actualized.

The basic rules are as follows.  Every kid on each team bats once per inning.  When he hits the ball he runs to first base.  When the next boy hits the ball, the runner on first runs to second.   The defense valiantly attempts to field the ball and throw it to first base.  As their are no actual outs, this defensive move is repeated ad nausium regardless of the number of base runners.  This is apparent to observers after they hear,'Throw it to first,' repeated for the six hundred and ninth time during the second inning.  (We are teaching fundamentals here, its not about competition.)

I took up the challenge and offered to coach first base.  Here is a brief description of my responsibilities.

Meet the bewildered first baseman from the other team.  This generally involved a brief description of his role in the coming melee.  I explained his basic responsibilities were to catch the ball in the air if he could, field any grounders hit to him and step on the base prior to the batter touching the base and stand on the base and catch any throws from teammates should the ball be hit to them.  My explanation was apparently flawed in almost every way as none of my instructions were ever successfully completed.  If I had the opportunity to work with only one kid during the course of the game, I truly believe my concepts would have built upon each other for his benefit.  However, the opposing coach sent a new wide eyed little urchin my way each inning. 

Encourage the batter to run to the base after hitting the ball.  This involved me punctuating each shout of 'HERE!' with frazzled point at the orange rubber mat serving as first base.  I count this my greatest success of the evening as most of the kids actually made it to the base in less than thirty seconds.  This is not to say the players on the Grey Team are not superior athletes blessed with blazing speed.  It is the chosen route that requires improvement.  The primary impediment involves the inability to select a spot in which to place the bat.  Imagine four year olds who have manage to lose fire trucks in every room of their house standing still halfway down the baseline scratching their heads as they mull each blade of grass as a suitable repository for their plastic weapon.

Explain to the first base runner his next assignment.  When the next batter hits the ball you need to run as fast as you can to second base.  My early mistake was failing to ask if the scantest knowledge as to the location of second base existed.  I quickly corrected this but without any impact.  We finally resorted to the rarely used Second Base Coach whose responsibility was to stand near second base and scream,'Here!'!' while pointing at the rubber mat at his feet.  I am hopeful that I did this in a more refined manner as one time I stole a look at him and I could see the bulging cords on his neck through the spray of spittle.

I am embarrassed to admit that twice during this activity, the base runner ran into the field to battle for the ball. The first baseman, having listened to my fevered instructions and knowing how imperative it was that someone run to second base, took it upon himself to do so.  Parents on both teams were outraged by this and began huddling together.  I could not hear the words but the pointing and stares left no doubt that I would soon be pulled. 

Then it was time for my boy to step to the plate.  We have been working on hitting and I was excited to see the fruits of our labor.  We were not disappointed - a line drive single in the five six hole.  Just as I turned to give him the thumbs up, I saw it happen.  He stumbled and came up limping bad.  Tears filled his eyes as looked up at me, "I hurt myself Dad."   

'Where does it hurt dude?"

'Right here Dad," he sobbed as he gestured to his crotch.   AAYYIIIII!  Groin pull.  Those who've had-em need no explanation.  No explanation will work for those who haven't.  He still limped as fast as his little legs would allow down to second base with the next hit.  I was one proud pappy. 

I was about to pull him from the game when it fortunately ended.  A dirt with worms from Sheridan's custard made everything better again.  I kissed him and he told me he was going to dream about fireworks and lightening bugs.   

Much love to everyone who is reading.  I hope you dream about fireworks and lightening bugs. 

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