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Recently, my 19-year-old son was home from college on semester break. We went down to the softball diamond and I showed him how to pitch. I grabbed Brian's right hand and laid the ball in it. I showed him how to roll the ball off his fingertips for the drop and snap the wrist on the rise. And how to drive off the mound toward home plate. A whirlwind introduction, for sure.
We talked fastpitch. We shared words like commitment, desire, heart and effort. I told him to be careful because this sport can get in your blood, and if it does, it's like a disease - hard to shake. His eyes and nodding head told me he was an eager pup.
But back in school in Oregon, I warned, he was on his own. Dad wouldn't be there to "push" him. He said a buddy would catch him and he would work at it three times a week. I said, "No Brian, it doesn't work that way. Buddies get tired of catching pitches in the dirt and chasing wild ones over their heads." He would have to find a block wall, I said.
His quizzical look spoke volumes: "Who in their right mind wants to practice alone at a block wall?" I laid it on thick. "It takes commitment, desire and dedication," I said.
Sitting at my desk, gazing out the window as the rain poured down yesterday, I thought back on that day with Brian. I was drawn into a nostalgic frame of mind. My how times have changed, I mused. For many of us "fifty-something's", we learned how to pitch or hit a softball, shoot a basketball, or slap-shoot a puck on our own. We were a self-taught generation.
As a young boy growing up on a small farm in Minnesota, there was little time for sports. We farm boys were too busy milking cows, cleaning pigpens or walking the beans pulling yellow mustard. Windmilling was left for late nights under the yard light by the barn after the cows were milked - chucking pitch after pitch of its concrete wall.
There were no pitching coaches telling us farm boys to "grip the ball like this", "push and rotate your hips like that". We just learned on our own and had fun doing it.
Don't get me wrong, knowledgeable pitching coaches are good. But I sometimes wonder if kids today have as much fun learning sports as we did - back in those good-old-days (?). About everything kids do today, whether it be little league baseball, club basketball, or high school sports, is structured: show up at this time, do this drill, run that drill, and "okay boys, that's a good two-hour practice, see you tomorrow same time." I wonder, where's the fun? It's so mechanical, so job-like.
Fun, when I was a kid, was shooting baskets up in the haymow with my farm boy buddies. We played for hours under a dingy, yellow light, shooting at an old bushel basket nailed to a beam. The ball would bounce wildly off the roughhewn, uneven barn floor. Twenty-below? So what, we were tough - put on mittens if you had to until your fingers thawed out. Our bright red ears were frostbit and our noses were running. We chose up our own sides, made our own rules, argued and fought over calls...and played for hours on end. There were no adults to tell us how to shoot the ball, or set a pick, or get in position for a rebound. But somehow we managed to learn.
And in the heat of a hot and muggy Minnesota summer, we played fastpitch softball. Tuesday and Friday nights at the Wanamingo Fastpitch League, us aspiring young pitchers stood behind the backstop keenly watching Don Kunde and Wally Borgschatz hum the ball to the plate. Then off we went to practice their spins and risers. Sure, they gave advice when we asked, but we learned by copy-cating. We pretended we were them; pretending we were pitching the big game, getting the big strike out.
Back in those days, we didn't have pitching or hitting coaches (charging $30 for twenty minutes time...thieves!). After a hard day of walking the beans or baling hay, we chose up sides and played games until darkness stole our fun.
But for kids today? Everything is structured. A set time for practice; do this drill for ten minutes; this one for another ten; turn the glove this way; hold the bat that way. Hell, I learned to hit by tossing up and swatting small rocks from the gravel road that ran by our farm. A cutoff broom handle served as my bat. Me and Craig Swanson and my brother Bill would see who could hit rocks the furthest in a game of "home run derby". We argued over who would be Harmon Killebrew, Bobby Alison, or Tony Oliva. It was great fun, and is there any better drill for hand-eye coordination? I coached my son's little league team for years. I once offered to reserve the diamond for them on a Sunday afternoon. I told them that they could play work up, 500, or choose up there own sides. It was their call. No adult "supervision" or coaching. Man, I spoke a strange language. What? Play on our own? No one to tell us how to do it? No one to tell us when to start and when to stop? Their puzzled looks told me that my great idea was foreign to them.
Kids live in a different sporting world today, a highly structured one. Parents' thoughts are of college scholarships. "If my little Johnny could just be good enough, it would save us so much money." So they pay through the nose now for the promise of a free college education later. They shell out big bucks for high priced instruction; shop for the best travel team to showcase Little Johnny's talents; and buy the very best equipment. Many become disappointed when Little Johnny doesn't get that free ride. Doesn't it all add up to too much structure, discipline and pressure? How does Little Johnny feel when he fails to meet dad and mom's expectations? Are the kids having fun, I wonder?
In our day, I think we dreamed more. We dreamed of being a Golden Gopher or Minnesota Twin or matching Wally Borgschatz pitch for pitch in the Wanamingo Fastpitch League. Sports was a joy - a reprieve from a day's hard work. Chucking the ball against a block wall was fun compared to cleaning pigpens.
Do you think kids have as much fun today playing sports as us "fifty-something's" did? Looking nostalgically back on my boyhood days on that Minnesota farm, I can assure you that I had fun.
And Brian? Brian said he'd give the block wall a go, so we'll see. "Just have fun, buddy. Just have fun".
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