The weather is really warming up here in Bagwine, Ohio. I have so many fond memories of my childhood and the fun we had when the weather got warm. One of my fondest memories, is that of playing Little League baseball. I played LLB from the age of 9 through 12…four long seasons of loss after humiliating loss.
Our team was looked upon as a team of troublemakers…a team from the wrong side of the tracks. Our best pitcher, Goody, would frequently hit the opposing batters, we forgot that our parents were there and we would cuss, we never slid into a base; we would always plow into the kid who was trying to tag us out. Even our coach (who went on to become a preacher) would routinely get ejected for arguing with the ump. But you know what? We were playing baseball. Most of our team couldn’t hit well, field a fly ball or grounder, or run very fast…We were underdogs, but we were the embodiment of how baseball used to be played and how it should still be played.
Of course how we played only reinforced the perceptions of the other parents as to what we were. See, the league in which we played was composed almost entirely of kids from well-to-do white families who all claimed to have had ancestors aboard the Mayflower. Our team was made up of ruffians…poor and middle class white trash and yes, Blacks!! Even our coach…Black!! Oh the humanity!! Our fathers weren’t doctors, lawyers, and bankers. We were the sons and even the daughter (Brooke), of working class stiffs, who got uppity and had moved to the North end of town, which at the time, could have been the inspiration for the song “Pleasant Valley Sunday”. It was 1974 and the unspoken prejudices of an “integrated” society were being felt…race and class issues, taking the field. With the exception of our parents and team mates, we were not referred to by our own names or our team name…We were referred to as, “them”.
It wasn’t really the players (although yeah, there were some real ass clowns) on the other teams that were jerks. It was of course, their parents. The cashmere wearing dads sporting mid-70s state of the art LCD watches and their frigid Stepford wives were “uncomfortable”, not to mention rude. They would complain to the league that we were being too rough because little Johnny got run over at home plate and we were just not very well-behaved.
But you know what, even though we were young, we knew what was going on and we reveled in it. We put it right back in the faces of those uptight pretentious phonies. Our catcher, Biscuit, who happened to be one of our black players, would mimic the South African Khoi-Khoin clicking language as the batter stood in the box waiting for the pitch. Instead of saying “Hey Batter, Batter” the rest of us would murmur “Mama’s Boy, Got No Bat”. Our plowing into their basemen got harder, and our amusement of those stiff parents became much more noticeable. We were the Little Rascals on Meth.
We slowly, yet steadily improved over those four years. We won three games the first year, four the next, and six the third year. In our last year together, Goody, managed to hit fewer batters and throw more strikes. Brooke caught every fly ball near her, and ran the bases like a deer. Biscuit’s tongue was not the only thing clacking, so was his bat, and he sent more than a couple of fastballs over the fence. And me, I batted .542 that season. We went 13-3. We were so bad for so long and now we were league champions, and when the final out had come, our parents stood and clapped, but the best thing was so did all of the others.
That was 30 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. We were a group of kids who overcame a lack of skills and turned unwarranted racial and class prejudices into a motivational tool. We avoided turning any anger we felt inward and instead, put it out there in the form of playground humor and a nicely turned double play. In the end, not only did we win…Everybody won.
Cheers!!
32 comments:
A true Bad News Bears odyssey. Nicely done. A group of ragtags stepping up and taking their right to play just like the rest of the kids.
Yep Trav, I thought of that movie when I wrote this. Thanks, Cheers!!
Wonderfully written and evocative post, Matt darling. I smiled and cried at the same time.
Bravo!
You have so MANY posts for me to catch up on...blimey and good grief....but anyway I am back (huzzah!) and just came to say hello.
Well done, Matt. That sounded like a whole bunch of great memories. Sportsmanship, fun, growth, and quite a bit of the sock-it-to-'em attitude.
Same here Songbird, and thanks...
Welcome Back Wendz!! I am sooo very happy that you are back among the living. I hope all is well with you. Cheers!!
Thanks Lizza: It was a good time. What could be better then baseball and boat rockin'?
Lovely post Matty dear.
Smooch
Why Thank ya TB...
Cue Hall Of Fame Hallmark Movie of The Week Theme....
Meridith Baxter Burney play your mom...
Lavar Burton plays your team's coach
Ted McGinley plays the opposing team coach
Final scene...the two coaches approach each other...
Ted "Your boys...they did great."
Lavar "Thanks you white asshole"
fade to black.....
ummm.. what? The Hallmark movie would not end like that?
re-film...
Levar "Thanks coach. If you hadn't been so tough on us, we would not have become strong. You really are a good man."
They embrace in a hug...
Shot of Meridith hugging little Matt-Man
"I am so proud of you."
Matt-Man "awwww mom."
Fade to black
Cue music
Promo for next week's movie
They were a rag-tag football team from a small college in Ohio..watch as they cavort in the locker room and get all the girls....
I actually may turn it into a screenplay, so there. However DO NOT denegrate my late mother's memory by having her portrayed by MBB. She's awful...not my mom, but rather MBB. My mom should be played by a young Morgan Fairchild, however we would have to then title the movie to "The Oedipus Nine".
It is a bit ironic however that you mention Lavar Burton..."Roots" debuted in '77. Cheers...
Ummm.... Levar was a purposeful choice based upon the Roots connection... please never doubt that my comments here are not thoughtfully formulated prior to my posting...sheesh
"Thoughtfully formulated"...bwhahahah, oh that's rich...You are killin' me V-Man. Sorry...I know they are...no, really.
And a fine lad ya turned out to be.....I grew up in similiar circumstances...only I didn't play baseball...I was on a basketball team....thanks for bringing back some memories for me too....
Peace
PS..so you weren't the catcher or the pitcher....are you going to tell us what you were?
Peace
Why thanks odat and Im glad you could relate to it. I guess that does narrow things down doesnt it? Cheers!!
I enjoyed it.. even if the sport played was baseball...
Replace with hockey gear and I relate.
Well done.
Thanks Anndi. I bet quite a few folks can relate to this. By the way, wanna get together and do some body checking? Just a thought...
Matt,
It reminded me more of Sandlot, one of my favorite kids/baseball movies.
Our family still loves baseball and though there is undying support of the Dodgers, we go to the Ranier games (farm team for the Mariners).
I thought of that one as well Jamie. Bagwine, Ohio has a connection to the Seattle Mariner's. Dave Burba pitched for them in 90 and 91. He grew up here. Cheers!!
Interesting thought... I also promise not to call for a high sticking penalty.
Very Good, Anndi. I'll make sure my Zamboni Machine is ready to go.
Definate movie material, though it would only sell in the States. Change it to soccer and you could go global. So, who would you get to play you?
I couldnt change it Boy, my heart belongs to baseball. As far as someone playing me that's tough, I cant think of any 12 or so year old actors around these days that could capture my pre-teen angst!!
Wow Matt...what a GREAT story!! Sounds like you had the same neighborhood as me and I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else. We made do with what we had...we had a river across the street from us. Yeah, it was mucky and gross...but it was "ours" in the neighborhood. Not someones pool. I love going back into my childhood memories and laughing. How sad that society has warped the minds of young kids. Even people my age out here look at me like I'm insane when I tell them the kind of things we did as a kid. They're loss...my memory ;o)
Thanks Matt...cheers!
Very well written, as always Matt-Man. I loved the Little Rascals Picture to go along with it. Great fit. :)
Thanks for dropping by today.
Love the story Matt... I sure do miss those days of "sand lot" ball... Thankfully, my kids have had the opportunity to experience what it's all about and forget about the competativeness ... Since we moved back to the small town I was raised in they have played sand lot ball for 3 years... and wouldn't take anything for it... neither would I.
Sounds similar indeed Jillie. We didnt have a river but we had a muddy old creek near us. I too draw contorted looks sometimes when I speak of the fun things we did. Cheers to you Jillie and I'll be posting my responses to your meme later this evening. ; )
Thanks alot Crazy...Hopefully by sometime this weekend I will have linked you and some others so I dont forget to stop by more often. Cheers!!
Dixie: Thanks!! When we werent playing organized ball we would spend all day playing wiffle ball. Ahh the good old days, Cheers...
Where's the part where you took one to the stones?
Badway
That only happened once. I almost threw up. Fortunately my mouth was full of Bubs Daddy Bubble Gum...It helped the pain. Cheers Nick!!
Matt-man, did you have a baseball nickname too?
I loved little league summer nights, the smell of fresh mown grass, the evening sun setting, hoping the game would end before the mosquitos swarmed....
Little Rascals on Meth
LOL
and also I laughed that 30% of your viewers/voters have your Little League position as "missionary"
Ha!
Lisa: You are correct...A warm, pleasant summer evening goes quickly downhill when the diminuitive blood suckers come out. Cheers!!
Mo: I calls em like I sees em Mo...Would you expect these perverted readers to not choose Missionary? Cheers!!
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