RAISING LITTLE LEAGUERS

By: Cody Harris   |   June 24, 2021

“Dad,” he says to me. “I think I understand baseball.” “Oh yeah?” I ask. “Tell me.” “Nothing happens for a long time,” he says. “And then everything happens all at once.” 

He’s right. Baseball is a game of languid waiting, punctuated by moments of sheer chaos. And when the players are 8 and 9 year-olds, it is near disaster, followed by thrilling exhilaration, followed by utter calamity, followed by comedic folly. 

This spring marked a rite of passage for my two boys (and me): our first little league season together. My 8-year-old took the field as a Ross Valley Rookie League Padre, and my 9-year-old made his baseball debut on the Ross Valley Minor League A’s. Having never played little league when I was a boy, I had a lot to learn about the ebbs and flows of each practice, each game, and the season as a whole. I wasn’t a coach, but I helped out, and exulted in watching my boys grow as athletes, baseball players, teammates and competitors. 

Guiding kids into competitive sports is a delicate thing, and I have all the respect in the world for the coaches, assistant coaches and little league officials who make it happen. Parenting through it has been eye-opening as well. You learn a lot about how your kid reacts to pressure, deals with failure, and balances competitive fire with sportsmanship—and as a parent, you can help them navigate these new and challenging feelings. It’s a whole new ballgame. 

Perhaps the most striking thing was watching how quickly the little leaguers’ skills developed over the course of a single season. Baseball is a complicated game with rules to follow and strategies to execute with only an eye-blink’s time to think about it. I marveled at how much these kids were taking in each time they practiced or scrimmaged. How much they learned with each swing of the bat, and with each attempted out. 

Some memories from this season stand out. There was the first game of the season, when a kid hit a nice grounder, but accidentally ran to third. There was the time when I was waving a kid home from third, but he stopped and told me, “No thanks, I’d rather stay here.” Then there was the time my younger boy dropped a pop fly and later sat on the bench mid-inning, tears welling up. “What’s wrong?” I asked him. “Are you hurt?” He choked out the words, “I didn’t catch it.” “You can drop 100 balls,” I told him, “just tell yourself you’ll catch the next one.” 

Baseball is unique among sports because it is a team sport that celebrates individual triumphs and records individual mistakes. That’s a lot for kids to handle. There is nowhere to hide when you’re at the plate or on the mound. The team is working together, yes, but there are moments when all eyes are on you and you stand alone. Your team can suffer a devastating loss, but if your kid caught a pop fly, turned a double play, or hit a nice line drive, he’ll be on cloud nine anyway. Conversely, the team may notch a win, but if your kid strikes out three times and bobbles an easy catch, he may not feel like a victor.   

For my part, I tried to keep the lessons simple. Practice will make you better. You’re going to strike out a lot, just like the pros do. You’re going to make mistakes, and that’s how you learn. Never complain to your coach about where he or she plays you; if you want more action, prove that you’re up to it. Always hustle on the field. Be ready for anything; the ball could come your way on any given play. Every pitch is a new chance—whether the last pitch was a strikeout, a home run, or a hit batter, it’s in the past. Lift your teammates up when they’re down—their success is yours. Develop good, consistent habits around how you stand, swing, throw and catch. Seek out good advice and follow it. Compliment and congratulate the other team and mean it. Thank your coaches. 

Our first little league season is drawing to a close, and I’m not sure who will miss it more, them or me. But this spring has instilled a love of the game in them that came out of nowhere and feels like it will endure. Maybe it’s because little league coincided with COVID-19 vaccinations and the pandemic’s abatement in Marin, but watching the kids on the diamond feels liberating, wholesome, healthy and normal—feelings we’ve missed for more than a year. 

What my kid said about baseball is true for life, too. It feels like nothing happens for a long time, and then everything happens all at once. The last year taught us all that. All you can do is try to be ready, help your kids through it as best you can, and tell yourself each pitch is in the past and that you’ll catch the next ball that comes your way. 

Cody Harris lives in Marin with his wife, Rebecca. They have two boys and aspiring big leaguers, Emmett and Levi, and a 16-month old daughter, Annanit. When they’re not cheering from the stands, Cody’s a litigator and Rebecca is an RN and Lactation Consultant.