Put Me In, Coach

Basketball was my favorite sport growing up. Larry Bird was my idol, and I wore Dennis Johnson's #3 in my first few years of YMCA hoops. I was a Green Teamer through and through. But surprisingly, I only have a few memories from my years as a Celtic-in-training. Nearly all of my sports memories from that era are of baseball.

Baseball is a sport that lends itself to the senses: the smell of oiled leather, the snap of a ball hitting a glove, the smooth electricity that rides up your arms upon making solid contact. I can still feel what it was like to run along the crushed-stone basepaths of Sherborn's little league field--the first step felt like a plunge into quicksand--though I haven't seen the park in nearly 3 decades.

This summer was Andres' turn to make some baseball memories.

He was on the Phillies, one of a handful of teams in Newton North Little League's Farm division. Games were twice a week. And there were some practices, too. It was a huge step up from his spring baseball experience, which felt like tee-ball-enhanced childcare. Anyone questioning the future of domestic baseball talent needed only to look at the skills on display in that league.

But the summer was different. These Phillies were actually playing baseball--the same kind they show on TV! Sure, the throws weren't always crisp, the decision-making was slow, and some half innings took close to an hour. It was still a closer approximation of baseball than anything I had seen up until this point.

Playing second base, not quite in ready position.

I think coaching was the big difference maker here. Kevin, the Phillies' coach, was a no-nonsense guy. He knew the game. And he had high expectations, too: the two-hour practices featured games of pickle and cut-off drills alongside the traditional throwing, catching, and hitting. This would have been unthinkable, and largely undoable, in the spring. But owing to the combination of good coaching, repetition, and more repetition, these kids' baseball skills actually improved between June and August.

This also meant that games were fun to watch. Some ground balls turned into outs. Some fly balls did, too. And when the pitchers were able to get the ball over the plate (which, admittedly, was a bit rare), it felt like an actual game between two teams. Maybe there is some hope for the sport.

Now batting for the Phillies...#5, Granofsky.

Andres ended up playing a lot of second base. He made some nice plays in the field, and even grabbed a couple of fly balls. He pitched a couple innings, though he couldn't quite make the throw from the pitching rubber (or, as he calls it, the "pitcher's plate") to home. At the plate, he collected a few hits to his name.

For me, perhaps the best thing about the season was that he wanted to improve. So on days when he didn't have an actual Phillies practice, I'd come home from work, trade my dress shoes for sandals, and play catch with him in the backyard for 30 minutes before dinner. It was great fun. I'd throw pop-ups; he'd catch them and fire them back to me like I was a catcher guarding home plate. I'm not sure what memories he'll take from his first real baseball season, but I have some new ones of my own.