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Published on 04/13/1998 All articles from this issue

Spring training

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By Joan Passarelli

Blue Jeans & Jelly Beans

When I was a kid, baseball was an annual season of terror. The end of the bat was far too small ever to connect with the hurtling ball. My glove was like a bear,s paw, too awkward and clumsy to pick up anything as nimble as a baseball from a weedy field.

Worst of all, I was the slowest of runners and an embarrassment to my team. I would try to shout slogans from the dugout, and learn from my teammates, raised eyebrows that I had said something pathetically inappropriate.

My husband Ben's memories are not much better. Pitching was all he was good at, but the coach,s son wanted to pitch. Ben spent a lot of time on the bench.

I wondered what spring training was like for our kids, and ambled over to the diamond a few weeks ago to find out.

It was a Sunday afternoon, the first sunny day after a long string of rainy ones. Several dads were coaching on the field, and other parents were enjoying the sunshine on the bleachers. The boys were 9- and 10-years old, and talented. It was good to see their pleasure in hitting the ball to the outfield, or feeling the tingling smack of the ball in the glove.

Then up came a youngster I didn't recognize. He was tall, thin, and scrawny. He began swinging at pitches, but was missing every one.

I tensed inside, waiting for catcalls and laughter from the rest of the team. But no one seemed to notice. When the boy missed his sixth pitch, one dad, Bob Marshalla, strolled over to the plate from where he'd been at first base. "Don,t forget to step into the pitch," he reminded the batter calmly. On the next pitch, the kid stepped, swung, and connected for a base hit. "Good job," said Bob, and strolled back again. His low-key approach and his kindness floored me.

As the practice went on, I saw more. Players encouraged each other. The coaches were all relaxed and easygoing. Skip Mueller, the head coach, explained patiently to the parents how he would devise the lineups, and what skills the boys would have to practice to play each position. There would be no nepotism on this team.

A week or so later, I watched my daughter start softball practice. Pearl Garvin is the head coach. A competitive adult-league player herself, Pearl could prize proficiency and competitiveness above all else, but she doesn't.

Pearl had her team cooperating, not competing, in drills to improve their skills. They were laughing as they chased each other around the bases in a tagging-out game.

And Pearl focused on the positive. Once, she gave some attention to my daughter, who was having trouble hitting the ball off the tee. Instead of telling Laura what she was doing wrong, Pearl found what she was doing right, and praised her for it, as she gradually instructed her on how to hit better. Finally, Laura hit the ball with a solid whack and a huge grin. Going home afterwards, she didn't remember failing: what she remembered was succeeding.

I wish I could have had people like Bob Marshalla, Skip Mueller, and Pearl Garvin helping me when I was a kid trying to learn the game. I'm glad our kids, today, do.

They are getting more than baseball in their spring training. They are training in teamwork and good sportsmanship as well. All you coaching parents, thank you for the patience and positive encouragement you give our children. Kids, play ball!