THE BLUE WAVE

My sister-in-law’s 5 year old grandson (Tristan) had his first tee ball game last evening.  It was held at a nearby park, so we went down to see what was happening.  The league is organized through the local park and recreation department; the signup fee provides each child with a tee shirt and baseball hat.  At the initial organizational meeting, the kids chose the Kansas City Royals color theme which features a very bright royal blue.  We had seen Tristan at a family gathering the previous weekend, and he was wearing his uniform very proudly.  So proudly, in fact, his mother Chelsea reported that he was demanding to wear his hat to bed every night.

Our son had played little league baseball nearly 30 years ago, and I thought I might know what to expect.  I really had no idea.  As we drove into the neighborhood where the park was located, I began to notice that people were parking their cars along the streets and walking.  We were still a couple of blocks from the park, and Ingrid said “you’d better take that space; there might not be any others closer.” After circling around awhile, we determined that, indeed, there were not.  Every available parking place within three blocks of the park was taken.  I was a little surprised nobody was selling parking space on their lawns.

We got close to the park and I began to understand why. There must have been over three hundred short people running around, roughly divided into groups wearing every color of the rainbow. Each child had anywhere from two to 17 parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, etc. there to watch. There was one game in progress, and practices taking place on two adjacent fields.  The sense of anticipation and excitement in the air was palpable.  It had been a kind of cool stormy Colorado afternoon, and you could tell that some parents were prepared for any eventuality.  Tents had been pitched, blankets spread, drinks and snacks distributed. Some were checking their smartphones for the weather forecast; others were checking to see if lost spouses were going to get there after work. The first game ended promptly on time and the respective Royals and Blazers crowds began jostling to get in place for the best camera positions, etc. There was even a local TV news cameraman there to document the expected athletic endeavors.

There was a bit of additional organizational work at first. Signup sheets for parental supply of snacks through the season had to be distributed. Potential food allergies, quantities, and relative health value of various alternatives were debated. My private thoughts concerning soda pop and pizza obviously would not have been appropriate. All this took place while the players were warming up on the field. The Tee was assembled and the coaches were tossing some balls out to the players. We were just about ready to go.

The Purple Blazers were first up at bat; The Royals were in the field.  I had expected that the use of a Tee instead of a pitcher might entail some changes to the traditional nine player lineup I was familiar with. However, I had not anticipated that, at this age, it is considered more important that everybody gets to participate than to abide by some old, outdated traditions. Having spent my entire young baseball career on the bench, this idea has a certain appeal to me. Still, the prospect of 23 infielders was more than I would have dreamed. There were no outfielders, apparently because nobody believed any of their opponents could possibly hit the ball that far.

The first batter approached the plate. The coach/umpire/ whatever he was placed the ball on the tee. The crowd hushed. I sat there expectantly, waiting for the satisfying CRACK!  that always accompanies a wooden bat connecting with a baseball. If one strained one’s ears enough, one heard a “whiff” as the bat missed the ball. It seems the batting helmet had slid down over the batter’s eyes and he could no longer see what he was swinging at. OK. Next time.

Now the crowd’s expectations rose: “hey, batter, batter! You can do it! Go on, Shaun! Yah, Yah, Yah!” Shaun dug in at the plate, just like in the major leagues. He glared out at the opposing team as if to say “ the last swing was a fluke; now, you will all PAY!!!”.  The noise level rose; Shaun glared at the ball on the tee. His mouth firmly set, he stepped into his backswing. We were all expecting a thunder clap, and ……..tink…….the ball was in the air, sort of. At this point, I was completely unprepared for what happened next. The ball floated lazily about 10 feet in front of the plate and settled down in the dirt, completely at rest.

Twenty-three kids were rushing toward the ball. As they converged, they all got closer together, and resembled nothing so much as a blue Pacific wave rushing toward the rocky shore, building momentum and fury as they approached. The crowd roared “Go,Go,Go” and “Get it, Get it, Get It!” As the mob of kids got closer to the ball, the ones in front slowed down in order to bend over and try and pick it up. This meant the ones right behind them went up over their backs, sort of resembling the cresting of a wave as it approaches the shore. The crowd noise was deafening, building as the height of the wave crested higher and higher, reaching a crescendo just as it seemed not another kid could possibly get up there!! There was this silent instant where time seemed to have stopped completely………..and then,……kaWHooompp! The wave collapsed! Every kid was in this big Blue pile, squirming around trying to get the ball!

The Crowd Went Wild! “Get it, Get it!”. “Throw it to first! Throw it to first!” “John Michael! John Michael!” It reminded me a bit of a King Salmon run in Alaska with millions of fish trying to make it upstream and the frantic wrestling, flipping, and jumping; each trying to get to the surface so they could jump some more. Nobody’s hat actually fit, so most of the caps were down over their wearer’s eyes and nobody could actually see what they were trying to do. Finally, one child emerged victorious from under the scrap, and lunged out to heave a tremendous throw toward first base. The only problem was there was nobody at first base (he had long since run in to join the pile), and, secondly, the thrower was also the batter! The Purple Blazer guy had gotten so excited that the ball was in play that he decided to go field it!

Needless to say, this development required the umpires to consult with each other. The apparent decision was to simply go on with Shaun on first base and bring up the next batter. This guy was apparently known to all as a big hitter, as everybody was waved back to the edge of the outfield. Two little girls, however, suspected he might not hit it as far. They were both together down the first baseline, each with a pink glove. They edged in slowly, just as a Big League third baseman might edge in when suspecting a bunt. A little at a time, just a little bit more, hands on knees, weight forward on the balls of their feet, perfectly balanced---fwop! There it was! Right in front of them….All they had to do was pick it up and tag the batter as he ran toward first! Only problem: he ran toward third!!!! The girls valiantly chased him down the third baseline, until they were overwhelmed by their teammates who had decided to come in and help field the ball! The result was a big pile of blue players on the sideline while the Purple Blazer guy ran from third to second. This required another consultation of the umpires.

Eventually, somebody decided that the Purple Guys had had enough turns at bat, and it should now be the Royals’ turn. Tristan got up to bat. There was another instant of silence as he prepared his mighty swing……then, THaWOCK! There it was, well out into the infield, blazing toward the 7 second basemen! “GO,GO,GO,GO!”He made it safely to first base. We were all focused on the batter, cheering him on to hit a homer and advance Tristan around the bases. Suddenly we looked down, and there was Tristan, who had decided he wanted a drink of water and left first base. There was no apparent cause for concern, as the batter hit the ball, a wave developed and crashed, and then Tristan simply went back to his base. Then he went to second, then eventually, around to home base as his teammates proved to be the equals of the Purple Guys at the plate. I was never able to tell exactly how many outs anybody had; I think maybe it was just everybody on the team got a turn at bat. That’s ok. As near as I could tell, every child had a good time. There were a couple of instances where somebody’s glove came untied or they got scraped a little bit on the bottom of a pile, but, for the most part, it seemed all had a good time and felt like they had won the World Series.

I worry a bit about my sister-in-law and wife, however. I had previously taken bets with a friend over who would get kicked out of the game first. True to form, they both seemed a little too inclined to question whether Tristan was being fairly treated. I also found it intriguing how much they knew about baseball and what the umpires should have done. Next game should be interesting.