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From Our June 2005 Edition


ll, it’s summertime, and that means those little McCarty grandbrats will be going to play their Little League baseball games. Oh, I can see them now with their little uniforms and their stirrup pants and their rubber cleated shoes. Just thinking of those little baseball buffoons makes me madder than Jimmy Piersall climbing up a backstop.

I can see those sandlot slackers now with their coaches putting their teams together. “Ooooh we have 20 children on the team, and everyone must play the game the same amount of time” Fiddle Fooey! When I was kid, if you were good you played and if you weren’t, we made fun of you and you stood in right field. When I was a kid, they used to make me crouch to get a walk and then in the field, if any ball were hit to me, the centerfielder would run and catch it. Sure, I felt like a useless piece of crap, but it made me play harder and I am better for it today.

And we sure didn’t need 20 people on a team when I was growing up like those fair play fairies nowadays. If we didn’t have enough players, we would play “call your field,” “pitcher’s mound out,” “pitcher’s hand out,” or “batting team provides the catcher.” We could play a whole baseball game with four people on a team and we didn’t need no umpires, parents, or coaches. And we sure didn’t need some rule book downloaded from the internet to make the game go faster. Three foul balls and you’re out and if you hit the cheese castle it was a ground-rule double. We made up the rules as we went along, and we loved it.

And these kids nowadays have the aluminum bats, tee balls, special gloves, knee pads, foot guards, catchers’ masks, and catchers’ helmets. When I was a kid all you needed to play baseball was a bat and a ball. And if someone brought a glove, great! And if you didn’t have a glove, you would use one from one of the guys on the other team that played the same position as you. First base was a rock, second base was a rock, third base was a rock, and home plate was a board with nails in it. And if you were a catcher, you took your life in your hands. One time, I was catching and played too close to the plate and Dennis Devine swung at the ball and clobbered me in the back of the head with a Louisville Slugger. Sure, ever since then I see double and I pee red, but I don’t care I wouldn’t trade a second of my childhood for a catcher’s mask.

So, you take your spoiled Little Leaguers to your T-ball games. As for me, I’m going to Coyle Park and playing some old-fashioned baseball. And it’s gonna be “pitcher’s hand out” and “call your field” so you better come prepared to play. And you shouldn’t have trouble finding me, because I’ll be the guy crouching at the plate with one eye closed and a red pee stain on his pants.




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