POLL: Hot Dog, It's Baseball Season!

It’s baseball season. It’s T-ball season.

On most Saturdays and many weekday evenings a T-ball game is underway somewhere in the neighborhood. If you don’t spot one right away, drop by a local park or school and listen for clapping, cheering and shouts of "Run, run!" Follow the sounds and you’ll find a game.

For those of you not familiar with T-ball, it’s beginning baseball for boys and girls ages 4-8 years. It teaches the skills of hitting, fielding, running and throwing. The ball is hit off a batting tee, not pitched, there are no strikeouts, walks or steals, every player no matter how skilled gets to play and they don't keep score.

Innings last until either five runs have been scored or the team line-up has had a chance at bat. This does not happen fast. It involves assisting and positioning batters, adjusting helmets and countless missed hits or fouls. Kids swing and swing and swing until they finally hit the ball. So innings have a tendency to stretch out—and I’m not talking about a seventh inning stretch.

I go to games because my grandson plays. I went to games when my kids played. I’m still not sure what I find more interesting—watching the kids learn to play or listening to sideline parents.

Don’t get me wrong. I don't dislike t-ball. Some people find the games boring, not me. Maybe it’s because I like baseball. I’m a longtime Boston Red Sox fan. I hung in long before they finally won the World Series and broke the curse. I’m becoming a Giants fan, but it’s not the same. Loving the Red Sox is something different, something special. Watch the movie Fever Pitch and you’ll get an idea of what I’m trying to say.

For me baseball is more than the game. There’s an atmosphere in a ballpark unlike anyplace else. It’s the crack of the bat when a player connects with a pitch and the roar of the crowd. It’s the bleachers and the ever-hopeful fans waiting for a ball to come their way. Everyone cheers and chants their favorite players, and during the seventh inning stretch the crowd sings at the top of their lungs. At Fenway it’s "Sweet Caroline" and at a Giants game it’s Journey’s hit "Lights." I love being part of it all!

A ballpark is the only place in the world where a steamed hotdog smothered with yellow mustard, ketchup and relish in an almost soggy bun and washed down with a cold beer tastes so great. Just thinking about one makes my mouth water.

T-ball is an acquired taste. It’s about kids being with their friends, learning something about baseball and having fun. The operative word here being fun.

Players sit on carpet squares or upturned buckets waiting for their turn at bat. Their attention span is limited. At any given time you’ll spot kids throwing handfuls of grass or shooting imaginary weapons at each other, tossing mitts in the air or doing gymnastic maneuvers. On the field it’s amusing—most of the players are unsure of where to throw the ball so it frequently ends up far afield of its intended destination. Kids in the outfield often seem more interested in a plane overhead than what’s happening in the game.

Generally spectators cheer and shout words of encouragement no matter what the result. But sometimes a coach or a parent will become loud and competitive, dressing-down a player for a bad throw or a missed play, questioning whether they really want their team to win or not. When this happens I cringe. Learning the game isn’t about winning; it’s about sportsmanship and teamwork.

No kid wants to whiff at bat or get tagged running to a base, but it happens. They know when they make a mistake. That's when they need to hear things like "Great swing" or "Nice hustle" or "Good try, you’ll get it next time" not comments pointing out the boo-boo they just made.

Like I said, the operative word in T-ball is supposed to be fun. There are no scouts on the sideline waiting to offer a scholarship or a contract. Pushing a kid to play perfectly cannot recapture a parent’s youth. What kids do on the field does not reflect how good a parent someone is, but encouraging them to do their best and come back for another game—win or lose—does.

Parents need to let their kids learn and have fun in the process. Let them be kids and play the game to the best of their ability, especially the ones out there for their first year. Most of the kids just want to be with their friends, eat after-game snacks and get dirty.

If they do that, who knows, maybe they’ll love to play baseball. At the very least, maybe they’ll turn into baseball fans and love to watch the game and eat hot dogs.

Sounds good to me.