Baseball once started with the children and ended with the adults

I trust in God

I love my country

And will respect its laws

I will play fair

And strive to win

But win or lose

I will always do my best

—Little League Pledge

As boys growing up in the late 1960s and 1970s, baseball was the sport. It was what defined summer. Up early, quick breakfast, and out to the field ‘til lunch. Maybe during the heat of the day, some kids would refresh themselves with a cool dip in the lake, pond, or pool, or better yet, with the garden hose in the backyard.

Kids would use the garden hose as an outdoor water fountain, never even bothering to wipe off the nozzle as it was passed from kid to kid until everyone’s thirst was sated. Forget plastic bottles, metal thermoses, or juice cartons. Kids didn’t care if the hose was picked up from the mud and wiped it. Germs be damned! It’s on to the next inning.

When it came to playing summer ball, it was either stickball on the asphalt and school walls, wiffle ball in your backyard, complete with a pitchback, or sandlot ball composed of you and as many kids you could find on a local diamond with the crabgrass infield and dirt outfield.

The games were played with the utmost integrity, with each team serving as umpire and the other team’s battery. The fun was hitting, catching, and throwing. Scores were secured, but the games lasted more than nine innings and, in the event of a blowout, a new game was quickly started.

Image: 1916 Norman Rockwell illustration of the boy who didn’t get to play baseball that day. Public domain.

Teams were organized by a draft. Usually, the best players were the captains of their squads, and picks would be one and four, while two and three went to the opponent. This pattern would continue until all the players were assigned. Meanwhile, any stragglers who arrived late to the field would just continue to fill out the teams. All of this was regardless of talent and skill.

No coaches, no managers, no umpires, and no fans. Occasionally, the mailman might stop and watch and even take a few swings, but that was it as far as adult supervision.

Organized ball, the ones involving parents, patrons, and politics, would be games played in the spring, with the playoffs coming somewhere either in middle- or late-June. Highlights of the games, heroes of the games, and the standings of the town-sponsored clubs were printed in the local paper for all to peruse. It was a thrill seeing your name recorded.

Some towns had “Barnstormers,” an elite baseball squad composed of the best players whom the coaches selected after watching them during the season. The coaches were all volunteers who were involved so kids could play and gain valuable instruction.

Many of the “barnstormer” kids were the best athletes and ballplayers. Others were the coaches’ sons…and who can blame them? But the kids knew.

Perhaps, this is too, too nostalgic, too saccharine, or too “Norman Rockwell Saturday Evening Post,” and too blinded by the past. But we from the sixties and seventies era are seeing a change in the approach and appreciation of America’s game.

It no longer seems as if kids play independently, organizing themselves on the local diamond, using cardboard as designated bases, and their own understanding of the game’s rules and integrity to act as arbiters on strikes, balls, safes, and outs. Rather, it seems that, to inspire today’s kids, weaned on electronics, to play baseball, “it takes a village” complete with permits and bureaucratic approval to schedule practices, games, and tournaments on taxpayer-funded ballfields.

Today, multi-colored uniforms, metal bats, designer spikes, sunglasses and batting gloves, hitter’s tees, eye glare, snack bars, tubs of sunflower seeds or bubble gum, and stacks of bottled water are all integral and necessary components in fielding an elite squad. Even the volunteer umpires are not above scrutiny as they are under technology’s thumb, with an “eye in the press box” reviewing and even determining the outcome of close plays.

It was once a novelty to see the Little League World Series on television. Now, though, television coverage has expanded to include televising “Regionals,” an example of how large, corporate, and bureaucratic America has evolved. Nothing today escapes corporate.

What’s happening today has nothing to do with the game itself, especially how kid-managed competition is healthy and good for them. In those games, failure is an option and losing does allow you to grow and mature. Winning is important, but learning how to win is far more integral in the development of the individual.

Like a cancer, TV, corporate sponsorship and, arguably the quest for 15 minutes of fame have metastasized to invade and destroy the innocent fun of kids just playing baseball.