My Fondest Little League Memory

My most memorable, shining moment in Little League baseball wasn't playing; it was the time I was drafted to coach a team. And, this wasn't just any team; I was given a bunch of hapless misfits who made the Bad News Bears look like the New York Yankees.

I was on my first overseas tour after joining the army in 1962, and just happened to be in an occupational specialty that the unit to which I was assigned had no use for. So, as a young army private, I was assigned 'extra' duties. In the 24^th Infantry Division in Germany during that time, extra duty usually meant the grease pit at the battalion mess hall if you were a goof off, but as I was a hard worker, willing to do whatever the first sergeant told me to do, I was sent to Special Services. Special Services was a euphemistic name for the jocks of the unit; we got to spend our days playing baseball, basketball, or, when team rosters were already full, coaching the kids of the officers and senior noncoms.

I played basketball during season, but when baseball season started, the rosters were already full, so I drew the short straw and was assigned to the Little League coaching staff. As the newest addition to the list, and the most junior person, I had to wait until the veterans filled their teams, and then I got to make a team out of the leftovers.

I was given twelve of the least athletic kids one could imagine. None of them had ever played baseball before, and to make matters worse, two of my players were the sons of colonels. That's a recipe for headaches, and if you screw up, a trip to the grease pits.

Growing up as I did in east Texas, sports has always been important, and every coach I played for had only one objective - win or you get benched. Looking at my little charges on the first day of practice, that didn't seem like an option. Heck, I'd have to bench the whole team. These kids couldn't throw a baseball from home plate to first base, and only one of them didn't cringe when a pitcher threw the ball. It looked that first day like it would be a long, sorry season.

As I pondered how to deal with the sorry mess I'd been given, I remembered what my first sergeant told me when I told him I'd been assigned to coach Little League.

"Just remember, private," he said. "These are kids, not grownups. They're out there to have fun, so make it fun for them."

Okay, Sarge, I thought, we ain't gonna win any games, so we might as well enjoy the exercise and sunshine. I started off slow, teaching them the basics; not getting impatient or yelling when they made mistakes; and just letting them blow off steam and enjoy themselves. And, enjoy themselves they did. Those kids threw themselves into learning baseball as if their lives depended on it. By the end of three weeks practice, they'd actually managed to develop some rudimentary skill at the game. Not enough to beat a real team, but they didn't look like too bad for kids who'd never been on a baseball field before.

When the day came for our first game, as luck would have it, we were matched against the best team in the league. When my kids took the field they were greeted with catcalls and jeers from the other team. They were looking to wipe the field with us; didn't respect us; and let it show.

My team of rug rats, and that's what we called ourselves; The Rambling Rug Rats; ignored the jeers.

I got a lesson in winning that day; those twelve boys showed me that you don't have to put more scores on the board to be a winner. Despite being outclassed, they never gave up. Much to the surprise and dismay of the other team and their coach, a smarmy corporal from one of the infantry units, we even put a couple of runs on the board. So much for their no-run, no-hit game - I'd heard that their coach had made a bet with his buddies that they'd do just that. We were like the boxer who keeps getting knocked to the canvas, but keeps getting back up and going to the center of the ring.

We lost the game; I recall the score was twenty-eight or something to two, but those two runs were important. They showed that if you have the guts and determination to do something, you can work miracles. We celebrated after that game with a lot more gusto than the team that had the most runs; because we were the real winners.

I've played a lot of ball since then; even coached a few other teams; but, that day was a day that will live in my memory forever as the day I learned a lesson in sportsmanship and spirit from a bunch of kids who didn't know the difference between a ground-rule double and a sacrifice fly.