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Not even those guys in our league approaching their fifth
decade of coaching in our New England-ish town ever remembered needing a shovel, let alone the gassing
up of a snow blower, to find home plate in April. Yet just a few days ago, breaking
up the layer of ice still coating the infield practically required
commandeering a Coast Guard cutter.
None of that manual labor, though, even compares with the legwork
required to scout prospects for the annual player draft.
In theory, coaches choose players for the upper-echelon
“majors” teams based on how the kids perform at tryouts. This cattle call usually
takes place in a school gymnasium though I remember being a kid some 30-odd
years ago and having to prove my merit in someone's spacious backyard. I might not have stepped in the bucket at the plate that day, but I
definitely stepped in some pet’s post-digestion kibble.
At our league's tryouts, we have each child: attempt to field a few ground balls
(which bounce far truer along the basketball hardwood than any actual infield) and
a few pop flies (when the flies don’t hit the gym rafters), take five or so swings
at live pitching, and run the imaginary bases once. Not exactly the NFL
Combine or even the audition scene from A Chorus Line, though if a kid ever
did break into a credible rendition of “I Hope I Get It,” I’d lobby to draft
him just to elevate the level of our team’s between-pitch chatter.
Surprisingly, you can learn a lot from such a brief look at
a player’s skills. Does the kid have a fluid throwing motion? A quick, level
swing? Know which hand his or her mitt should be on? We once missed on that
last one. Our team drafted a decent right-handed thrower who turned out to actually
be a lefty. His parents, Polish immigrants who didn’t know baseball, had bought him
the wrong fielder’s glove and the boy didn’t want to raise a fuss. Turns out he
had a cannon as a southpaw. If only we could have found a strike zone the size of the side of a barn for him to hit.
So as you see, it’s essential to do some homework before
tryouts to really understand what each child you consider drafting could bring
to your team. In his 1992 book Little League Confidential, journalist and author Bill Geist wrote about some of the
various strategies he and others employed during the draft based on such insider knowledge. For
example, along with trying to fill holes in his batting order and defense, Geist
always sought a kid with a single, tangible asset not obvious in a five-minute tryout.
“I needed a kid with a pool. A swimming pool. For the
post-season party. That’s my philosophy,” he wrote.
Most famously, Geist also quoted a fellow manager who made sure
he always chose “the kids with the best-looking mothers.” No one today would
ever – EVER – follow (or at least publicly admit to following) this sexist practice.
Today’s Little League coaches are far more practical. We like to choose kids whose
parents, male or female, have the strength and coordination to save us from
raking the field and throwing batting practice before every game.
And that would be a nice draft for me, because after this long cold winter, the
only ice I want to see is in a post-game cooler of beer and not wrapped in an elastic bandage being applied to my rapidly aging back.
Parents who clean up their stuff after the game is nice too as well as those who make sure their kids are committed. Also good.
ReplyDeleteA swimming pool sounds good too.
Good call on cleanup. Thanks for the comments, Larry.
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