Little League
I have been inattentive to writing and proffer the usual. Busy. Work. Children. Out of ideas.
All untrue, except "out of ideas" could be related to "never had any ideas".
The real problem is Little League. #1 son and I have just completed our 10th year of coaching the Phillies together, my 19th year of coaching overall including 7 years coaching #1 son before he took to the more cerebral portions of the game, coaching #2 son.
I am a lifer. I have no idea why I coach Little League with both my sons out of that age, or perhaps I have a few reasons, all of which are vaguely embarrassing, so I go to some effort to find them unpersuasive. One is that I enjoy the joint enterprise with #1 son where he is probably smarter than I am, but I can do the grunt work, fill out the papers, send emails to the team and carry the equipment. We can work as equals with no family, danger or money at stake.
We do it this year because we did it last year. Little League is the fabric of the house, the rhythm of the seasons. Debates about the time taken by Little League are part of the deal, and in December we review the coaches’ reports from the minor leagues to discuss the player draft coming up in March. Ah, the draft is exquisite agony.
I love the banter with the boys. After 10 years I have the annual discussions pretty well down, usually starting in mid-season with a discussion, more accurately a monologue, as to whether there have been any new thoughts since Aristotle. In a particularly promising year 2 players have heard of Aristotle, and some years one player is willing to venture that "television" is new since Aristotle. My usual riposte is that television is merely the application of technology with which Aristotle was quite familiar. I have not strictly taken Jacques Barzun’s position that there is nothing new since Aristotle, but I think the concept is worthy of note to 11 and 12 year olds. #1 son is impatient to get on with the practice and thinks it somehow unfair to fire missiles over the heads of the boys. I point out that the impatience of the sons to the wisdom of the fathers is considerably older than Aristotle.
On June 16th the Phillies celebrate Bloomsday. I have a commemorative T-shirt I wear that day, dazzle them with the concept of the 50 page concluding sentence and conclude myself that Molly Bloom was a Phillie, that she wanted to be up with the bases loaded, just to have a chance to hit a home run. Yes, Yes. Who wants to be up with the bases loaded? Think about Molly Bloom. And yes I said yes I will Yes. #1 son is practically apoplectic.
This rain-soaked, rain-delayed, rain-dominated year the Phillies won the championship. For the first time since 1999 when #2 son and his friend Phil led the team as 12 year olds the Phillies had the players to win, and the coaches weren’t able to mess it up. What a year! Glory Hallelujah! Yes, Yes!
All untrue, except "out of ideas" could be related to "never had any ideas".
The real problem is Little League. #1 son and I have just completed our 10th year of coaching the Phillies together, my 19th year of coaching overall including 7 years coaching #1 son before he took to the more cerebral portions of the game, coaching #2 son.
I am a lifer. I have no idea why I coach Little League with both my sons out of that age, or perhaps I have a few reasons, all of which are vaguely embarrassing, so I go to some effort to find them unpersuasive. One is that I enjoy the joint enterprise with #1 son where he is probably smarter than I am, but I can do the grunt work, fill out the papers, send emails to the team and carry the equipment. We can work as equals with no family, danger or money at stake.
We do it this year because we did it last year. Little League is the fabric of the house, the rhythm of the seasons. Debates about the time taken by Little League are part of the deal, and in December we review the coaches’ reports from the minor leagues to discuss the player draft coming up in March. Ah, the draft is exquisite agony.
I love the banter with the boys. After 10 years I have the annual discussions pretty well down, usually starting in mid-season with a discussion, more accurately a monologue, as to whether there have been any new thoughts since Aristotle. In a particularly promising year 2 players have heard of Aristotle, and some years one player is willing to venture that "television" is new since Aristotle. My usual riposte is that television is merely the application of technology with which Aristotle was quite familiar. I have not strictly taken Jacques Barzun’s position that there is nothing new since Aristotle, but I think the concept is worthy of note to 11 and 12 year olds. #1 son is impatient to get on with the practice and thinks it somehow unfair to fire missiles over the heads of the boys. I point out that the impatience of the sons to the wisdom of the fathers is considerably older than Aristotle.
On June 16th the Phillies celebrate Bloomsday. I have a commemorative T-shirt I wear that day, dazzle them with the concept of the 50 page concluding sentence and conclude myself that Molly Bloom was a Phillie, that she wanted to be up with the bases loaded, just to have a chance to hit a home run. Yes, Yes. Who wants to be up with the bases loaded? Think about Molly Bloom. And yes I said yes I will Yes. #1 son is practically apoplectic.
This rain-soaked, rain-delayed, rain-dominated year the Phillies won the championship. For the first time since 1999 when #2 son and his friend Phil led the team as 12 year olds the Phillies had the players to win, and the coaches weren’t able to mess it up. What a year! Glory Hallelujah! Yes, Yes!
posted by Contraria | 7:01 PM
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