My Dad dreamed of playing organized baseball. It was around 1940 and baseball was the national past-time (the NFL and NBA didn’t exist). Alas, it didn’t work out for my Dad, so he had kids (mostly boys) and he lived vicariously though Chuck and Jack. My Dad became a coach.
The good news was that my Dad was interested in teaching his kids about baseball. He was smart, talented and involved.
The bad news is that I think he harbored dreams of one of his kids becoming proficient enough to make it to the “big leagues”. He tended to “push” in a relentless pursuit of perfection.
Grasshopper No.4 has one son playing baseball this summer. No.4, like all good fathers, is proud of the son’s effort and mystically, No.4 is suddenly the assistant baseball coach. The “head coach” was out of town recently, so No.4 was responsible for running his first baseball practice, alone!
No.4 also coaches the other son to play football. No.4 is familiar with football drills, not baseball. When in doubt, run repetitive conditioning drills. Eliminate the tackling drills. Talk fundamentals. Coaching baseball can’t be much different from football.
I’m looking forward to my Grandson’s next Little League baseball game. My guess is that when a kid hits the ball and runs toward first base, he will get tackled like in football. Hey, a kid may even come off the bench to block for the hitter. I do think wearing a football helmet while playing second base will look funny.
Actually, I have to compliment No.4 for being involved. I don’t think he harbors unreasonable dreams. He does understand “fun”. Most of all, time goes by very, very fast and is “oh so” precious. Enjoying the moment is what it is all about.
All that is left is winning. Win baby. Win at all costs! Kill ’em! Oops, I got carried away. Just like all other dads in the world.
Love,
Dad