(Not the Orioles, but Great Fun)
As a reporter for the Mayefield Messenger, Thomas Carroll captured the soul of his hometown by writing about “real people,” not just those considered newsworthy. His feature stories were well regarded and occasionally came to the attention of the metropolitan daily, the Beacon Light, which published Thomas’ stories under the heading “Dispatch from Mayefield.” The following is one of these Dispatches, published in 1977.
Not the Orioles, but Great Fun
By Thomas Carroll
Mayefield Messenger
Parents, grandparents and friends arrive with their lawn chairs and blankets, with water coolers and picnic baskets, ready for a full seven innings of excitement. Passing motorists stop for a few minutes, as do joggers, bicyclists and walkers.
It’s a game like no other.
The little girl runs the bases with the enthusiasm of a major leaguer. The fielders throw and overthrow trying to stop her, but she eludes capture and touches the bases one-two-three.
Heading for home, she turns the speed on full steam, both arms flailing, blond hair waving in the wind, face flushed with effort. In one final burst of energy, she long jumps the last few feet, landing almost squarely on home plate. Defiantly she stands, brushes off some dirt, and sticks out her tongue in triumph at the opposing catcher.
It’s the Mayefield Boys and Girls Club girls’ tee-ball league, a wild variation on the national pastime. Played every Tuesday evening behind Mayefield Elementary, the seven to nine year old girls square off for seven innings of frantic action.
Using standard rules, with a few alterations (some devised on the spot as the situation occurs), the game serves as an introduction to the game of softball. For some of the girls, the coaches literally have to introduce them to the ball and bat.
As one coach comments, “We’re not the Orioles, but it’s fun.”
The girls play a seven game schedule, five of which they hit off a three-foot tee, and the final two with the pitching provided by the coaches.
Humorous moments abound during the action, but the laughter is not that of spectators poking fun at the players. The game’s fascination is similar to observing a baby taking his first step or a bird learning to fly. There is some stumbling at the outset, but an unparalleled thrill when the coordination begins to take shape.
The appeal of the game is offense. The girls are there to hit – scoring runs is always more fun than preventing them. Since it is a hitters’ game, innings are limited to three outs or ten batters, whichever comes first. More often than not, it’s the ten batters.
Quality of play is inconsistent, ranging from an occasional running catch to the utter defensive disregard of an ongoing ball. But miscues never occur through a lack of enthusiasm. There is an occasional lapse of attention during a long inning in the field, but a plea from a coach to “pay attention, please, girls!” brings daydreaming players back to reality.
Keeping players alert is one of the coaches’ main functions. One coach explains that “in tee ball, you always have to tell the girls what to do. During the last game, I tried for an inning to let them it do it themselves. It was a disaster!”
A player doesn’t always hear the shouting that comes her way. The noises blend together and the girl is on her own. The ball comes to her. She stops it or catches it, or slaps it with her glove, or kicks it.
Of course, a fielder always runs into perplexing situations. For example, there are two runners on base who start to run on hit. You are the shortstop and stop the ball. Where do you throw? To first, to second, to third, to home? Hurry up, think!
One runner is coming home … forget her … over to second? No, she advancing toward you … tag her out? Too late, she runs back to second.
You stand there, ball in your hand, with nowhere to throw it.
Why is the coach shouting so much?
The game isn’t all indecision. If nothing else, imagination plays the most important role. Part of the game’s magic is young girls making up their own way of doing things.
The structure of local tee ball brings up an interesting situation. Since a team is limited to ten batters in an inning, the tenth girl up has two alternatives: hit a home run or get tagged out. Usually what happens is that the player hits to an infielder who tags her out as she runs the bases, or throws home and the catcher waits to make the tag.
But the young mind cannot accept the inevitable. In a recent game, one girl found what she felt was the perfect solution. She rounded the bases and started home, noticing that the catcher was blocking the plate, ready for the tag out. Instead of submitting, she took a slight detour, turning left and circling around the pitcher’s mound, attacking home plate from the rear – with the catcher, of course, in hot pursuit.
She couldn’t understand why she was called out.
(Robert J. Marton)