Once and Future Diamond Dogs

This is one of my favorite weekends of the summer and not just because I get to watch so many other people’s kids get dragged to stores for back to school clothes, though (of course) that is looming at least around here for next week.

Nothing warms my heart quite as well as watching a gangly young person who elevated barefoot to an art form since school let out in middle June having to get used to wearing shoes and socks again. As an adult with a list of required wear apparel longer than Bush’s reasons for invading Iraq, I say ‘welcome.’

No, today are two very intriguing baseball games that will determine who meets on the morrow in the middle of the afternoon for the 2014 Little League Baseball World Series Championship.

I love professional baseball beyond any beats and bounds and I am always loyal to where the wellspring of the game actually is, on the sandlots across this country and around the world. 

With all the hell and hurt going on just about anywhere you stick a pin on the globe, I am looking forward to this afternoon’s contests (the International division faces off first at half past twelve with Chicago and Las Vegas in the US division at three) as my “gone fishing” sign to everyone and any care for the remainder of the day.

There are/were so many great aw shucks stories and magical moments again this tournament and I hate to see it end, not only because I enjoy the energy, enthusiasm and engagement these young people bring to my favorite sport but because someone, somewhere ultimately has to lose for someone else to win.

The dog pile that goes on at home plate when the last out is made (on Sunday afternoon) is balanced by a sadness from the other dugout whose team struggled through all season to come up just short at the final moment. There’s no shame in losing-only if you didn’t play every second of every game to win and when you get to Williamsport, there’s no danger of that.

Little League baseball, in my jaundiced opinion, is how life should be. People take turns and say please and thank you. They respect the rules and those who enforce them. They try their hardest and give their all. They say ‘way to go’ to team-mates and competitors alike and really mean it and when an umpire says ‘that’s a ball’ or ‘that’s a strike’ they say yes, sir, and nothing more.

Little leaguers are us before all that adult stupid stuff gets installed. You should check it out this afternoon and remind yourself of the way we were when summer days went on forever and you played baseball until mom called us in for supper. Don’t let anyone say that it’s just a game. Batter-up.

-bill kenny