a return to the madhouse

It's that time of year again-- the birds are singing, the sun is shining and the baseball bag is packed and ready to go once or twice a week. Yup, it's youth baseball season! Maybe I'm misinformed, but I really thought that the point of signing up our 8 year old JAM for machine-pitch baseball was to strengthen his skills (which the proud mama in me needs to point out are getting really solid!), give him experience being part of a team, encourage physical activity, and oh... um... what's that other one?

Oh yeah, HAVE SOME STINKING FUN. Well, I for one am trying to have some fun at his games, but it's getting harder and harder because we're surrounded by adults who seem to have forgotten that whole FUN aspect of the game. A year ago, I wrote about a dad of one of JAM's teammates, who "helped" out the team, I guess as an unofficial assistant to the coach, but really just stood around yelling at his son. (If you want to take the time to read last year's post, I'll humbly say that I thought it was one of my more impassioned irate rants.) Well, guess what? That jackass is the official coach this year. (Insert your favorite expletive here.)

As a coach, this guy hasn't done anything but hold the clipboard and worry about which parent brought the snacks at each game. Literally, he hasn't done a thing-- no instructions beyond yelling from the outfield (where he stands with his damn clipboard), "You're swinging TOO EARLY!" Lovely hubby has stepped up and basically ran every practice, and he's the one giving actual instruction to the kids, showing them what the words actually mean. JA Coach also continues with his nothing-but-negative interactions with his own son, and I actually overheard his wife telling another parent in the stands that he's not really that bad with her son, he's just impatient and a Latino man. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that inappropriate behavior that even your wife actually feels the need to explain away is excused by the geographic location of your ancestors. He's a jerk, plain and simple.

Since JAM is playing well, he's been spared the frustrated grunts and other outbursts, but during the last game I was pushed over the edge. We were playing the other team that I mentioned in last year's post as well (also with a 'coach' whose interactions are much too intense and rough for my taste), and there was a play in which there were players from each team who were not doing the right thing-- I don't really remember, something that if the third baseman hadn't messed up, he would have gotten the runner out. So, the kids are running back and forth really confused about what they should be doing, and a few parents and I are in the bleachers giggling, because, really, they're 7 or 8. (Or possibly even younger-- we have a few really small kids on our team this year.) Meanwhile, there's our JA Coach screaming at the third baseman, while his face is beet red and clenched up, along with the other JA Coach mirroring his behavior but from over at the pitching mound. Seriously, their words were incomprehensible, and the kids had absolutely no clue what to do. No instruction was given, just yelling, yelling and more yelling.

It was one of those moments where I didn't think at all before opening my mouth. From the bleachers where Red, Pudge and I were eating our sandwich dinners, I stood up and found myself suddenly yelling to the field, "YOUTH BASEBALL! THIS IS YOUTH BASEBALL! THERE ARE RULES THE PARENTS ARE SUPPOSED TO FOLLOW AND YOU GUYS SHOULD HAVE TO ABIDE BY THEM, TOO!"

Yeah, I'm sure I came off as the crazy woman. Crazy. But for the love of God, the kids looked confused and scared, and the men looked like they were witnessing the game-deciding play of the final game in the World Series. Honestly folks. I'm slowly adjusting to the fact that the score is now the focus of the game, but this is just not an acceptable way to act toward these kids, whether their actions affect the score or not.

After the game, our JA Coach is talking to Scott about whoever was keeping score for the other team, and he was saying how that team is nothing but trouble, always cheating and causing problems. I guess there was some question of how many runs were actually scored during the game. Standing there and hearing this just frustrated me to no end. Looking down at the league rules that are right on top of his pile of papers on the bench, I noticed the number one rule that is highlighted:

"This is a game for the children-- Have Fun! You are the adults-- Set a good example."

I couldn't help myself, I really couldn't. My mouth started moving before my brain finished its processing, and I heard these words come out: "It seems like EVERYONE is forgetting the number one rule from the league. EVERYONE. You know the one about fun and setting a good example? You know, the one you have highlighted right there on your clipboard?" And then I just walked away, with my heart beating fast and declaring to lovely hubby that I just can't take much more of this.

So, game day is tomorrow, and I'm trying so hard to keep JAM focused on practicing his skills with his dad and just going out and playing his best. Yes, I get that the goal of playing another team is to try to win, but the last thing I want is for JAM to think that winning comes at the cost of interacting appropriately with his teammates or keeping his cool. What would we as parents on the sidelines do if another player screamed at his or her teammates the same way the coaches did? Would we just brush it off? Yeah, I don't think so.


Wanting to be a good bleacher mom,