Battered Bastards of Baseball

As kids we played baseball all the time. We seemed to be down at the little league field almost every night either playing or watching family or friends. Foul balls would be fought over by young kids who could turn it into the snack bar for a free sno cone. We wondered why parents in the stands would scream at the umpires because they thought the last pitch was a ball. Heck, we thought, that's only two strikes. After hitting our first home run over the fence we rounded the bases with big smiles on our faces because we couldn't contain our excitement.  It didn't matter that our last season in Majors we went 0-16. We loved it. We would play often taking for granted the fact that if our parents didn't sign us up. We wouldn't play. Winter ball. Fall ball. We thought playing two or three games a week year round was normal. Most of us didn't just dream of playing in the Bigs, we knew it would happen because we loved it and that's what we did. 

The older we got the more work it became. Coaches yelled more and less time was devoted to games because other things were important. How could we do a day activity for prom when we had practice until 11 am? Our minds were elsewhere not focusing on improving. Playoffs came and when we lost only a smidgen of us was disappointed because we were ready to do something else. Then the season was over and there was nobody to sign us up for the next league. We didn't mind at first because a week off was cool to hang out with friends. Then a week turned into two, a month, year, and before you knew it you are married with kids and there's no more ball. 

I just watched a movie on Netflix called The Battered Bastards of Baseball. Grown men who got a second chance to play a game. Baseball is supposed to be fun and since we don't have the skills or time to play anymore we turn to softball. 

Last week I realized once a week we get a small taste of playing that wonderful game. Sometimes we take softball too seriously and get upset at a bad call or a garbage hit. We expect a lot from ourselves, but isn't it still a game that's supposed to be fun?  Being down 12-0 in the third inning last week was bad. I thought it would be better to walk out of the dugout and into the parking lot, but somehow later it was fun again. Incredibly a pitching change in the fourth inning worked. And later in the final inning we were jumping around cheering a simple single up the middle that would win us the game. For a small moment we were kids again. 

-Rusty Shackleford

Great movie.