Running has long been the standard punishment for baseball players. A lot of times after a game you run poles (one “pole” is running from one end of the outfield fence to the other and back, staying in the vicinity the fence) equal to the number of runs you lost by, or perhaps the number of errors, or strikeouts looking. Even if you personally didn’t make any of the mistake that the coach specifies, you have to run; it’s a team thing. I’m here today to take a deeper look at this tradition, or more accurately, tell you why it’s completely and utterly stupid.
First, you’re being punished for something you were already punished for in the game. It’s not as if anyone enjoys making an error or striking out or losing. If I make an error, not wanting to do it again and suffer the consequences that come with it (hurting the team, looking bad, and possibly getting less playing time) is motivation enough to try to correct it. Running will just annoy me.
Second, you’re punishing the whole team for something one player did—even if multiple players committed the offense, they each get punished for everyone’s mistake, not just their own. Take for example my game yesterday. I didn’t play at all. There was nothing I could have done to change anything that happened in it. Yet if, after the game, the coach had deemed running “necessary”, I would have had to run the same amount as someone who might have made 5 mistakes. How does that make sense?
To add on to that, I once heard a coach say that when one player makes a mistake, the whole team suffers, so the whole team would run for the one player’s mistake. How does that work? The team already suffered, and there’s nothing the team can do to change it, so why punish the team?
There are a few situations that I would agree with running. I could definitely see making players run as punishment for bad behavior, but still not the whole team. Also possibly for repeated laziness, such as not running hard in a game, and maybe even repeatedly being late. But those latter ones I’d still be more inclined to punish by taking away playing time. It’s more direct, and it also matters a lot more to players—I know I’d run 10 poles every game if I could be guaranteed I’d play every inning. But if I did sit them, I’d be sure to let them know that their laziness was the reason they were getting splinters in their butt, not their performance.
In closing, if any of you ever happen to coach a baseball team, never ever make them run as punishment for poor play.
The defense rests.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Does it get any better?
The other day I played a game in one of the most amazing baseball settings I’ve experienced. The weather was around 60-65 degrees, and it was about a 45 minute drive to get to the field. The drive was nice, despite the length, especially the last third of it, as it was on a rather remote road with high speed limits. This combination of good roads to cruise on, good weather to cruise with the windows down in, and good music to cruise to (Zeppelin) set a good stage for arrival at the game.
It got better as I approached the town that the game was in. It was a very small town--I think the only non-residential buildings I saw were a school and a library. There were a few houses, not run down, but definitely eligible for an HGTV renovation show; the buildings gave it the perfect small town feel (fitting, since that’s what it was).
When I arrived at the field, the skies were cloudy and the wind was blowing. The game was already underway (a different start time and location than previously stated were to thank for that). I stretched, ran, tossed, and sat on the bench, chewing seeds and thinking about this perfect setting for a game.
After a couple innings the sun started shining, and I was sent in to play third. I played four innings there, having two fielding chances, one which I made the 5-3 play, and the other which I rushed my throw and threw the ball away. Oh well, nothing hurt. I walked in my first at-bat and struck out in my second.
In the end we won easily, our whole offense producing, our pitching being solid, and our defense playing very well yet again.
On the way back, I of course had the pleasure of driving those same fun roads, listening to the same great music, and enjoying the same fantastic weather (the only difference between the trips was that on the return trip I stopped at Arby’s for some delicious food).
All in all, I was feeling on top of the world: playing baseball in the perfect setting, driving around, not having a care in the world. Does it get any better than that?
It got better as I approached the town that the game was in. It was a very small town--I think the only non-residential buildings I saw were a school and a library. There were a few houses, not run down, but definitely eligible for an HGTV renovation show; the buildings gave it the perfect small town feel (fitting, since that’s what it was).
When I arrived at the field, the skies were cloudy and the wind was blowing. The game was already underway (a different start time and location than previously stated were to thank for that). I stretched, ran, tossed, and sat on the bench, chewing seeds and thinking about this perfect setting for a game.
After a couple innings the sun started shining, and I was sent in to play third. I played four innings there, having two fielding chances, one which I made the 5-3 play, and the other which I rushed my throw and threw the ball away. Oh well, nothing hurt. I walked in my first at-bat and struck out in my second.
In the end we won easily, our whole offense producing, our pitching being solid, and our defense playing very well yet again.
On the way back, I of course had the pleasure of driving those same fun roads, listening to the same great music, and enjoying the same fantastic weather (the only difference between the trips was that on the return trip I stopped at Arby’s for some delicious food).
All in all, I was feeling on top of the world: playing baseball in the perfect setting, driving around, not having a care in the world. Does it get any better than that?
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Baseball guys
I’ve been worried since my last post that I may have used a term that not all of you are familiar with: baseball guy. Those of you who don’t know what it means probably assume it’s anyone who plays baseball. Well, my friends, it’s not. I have played ball with plenty of guys who were far, far from being baseball guys. For the sake on enlightening you, I will try to explain just exactly what a baseball guy is. This may prove to be a difficult task, because there’s no real definition. So what I will actually do is just list some descriptions of baseball guys, to give you a better idea of what they are.
Most are at least moderately good at baseball, although this is not a requirement.
They know the proper way to chew seeds. Not one at a time, but rather putting a small handful in your mouth and then proceeding to crack, spit, and eat then with minimal help, if any, from your hands.
They know the positions by their numbers.
They know the difference between a rip and a shot, a jack, and a bomb.
They yell some or all of the following from the bench: “We got ice!” “C’mon here kiiiid!” “Whadda ya say here, whadda ya say?” “Attakid!” “Attababe!”
They recognize great plays and give the people who make them their proper due.
They yell “Roll a pair”, “Roll it”, “Roll two”, and “Turn two” (and in the proper situation).
They have a thorough knowledge of baseball lingo.
They call the ump “blue”.
They look forward to their first game of the year for weeks in advance.
They sleep with their bat and/or glove in the week(s) leading up to their first game of the year (a trait more commonly seen in younger kids, but also known to exist in older ones).
They have multiple bats and gloves.
They spit.
I guess to surmise, the most basic definition of a baseball guy is someone who’s extremely comfortable with the game.
Now, just because you’re a baseball guy doesn’t mean you do all those, nor does doing all those make you a baseball guy. But if you want to go baseball guy hunting, that list is a good place to start.
I think one thing that makes them hard to describe is that they come in many different forms. There are baseball guys who are serious and intense, baseball guys who are complete goofs, and some who are both (goofs most of the time, but get serious when it’s their time to perform).
I absolutely love being around the baseball guys on my teams. I suppose it has to do with the aforementioned comfort with the game, but whatever it is, I prefer to sit near them on the bench, throw with them, talk to them, and do everything with them.
Hopefully if any of you were wondering what exactly a “baseball guy” is, this will at least help to clear it up for you a little.
Most are at least moderately good at baseball, although this is not a requirement.
They know the proper way to chew seeds. Not one at a time, but rather putting a small handful in your mouth and then proceeding to crack, spit, and eat then with minimal help, if any, from your hands.
They know the positions by their numbers.
They know the difference between a rip and a shot, a jack, and a bomb.
They yell some or all of the following from the bench: “We got ice!” “C’mon here kiiiid!” “Whadda ya say here, whadda ya say?” “Attakid!” “Attababe!”
They recognize great plays and give the people who make them their proper due.
They yell “Roll a pair”, “Roll it”, “Roll two”, and “Turn two” (and in the proper situation).
They have a thorough knowledge of baseball lingo.
They call the ump “blue”.
They look forward to their first game of the year for weeks in advance.
They sleep with their bat and/or glove in the week(s) leading up to their first game of the year (a trait more commonly seen in younger kids, but also known to exist in older ones).
They have multiple bats and gloves.
They spit.
I guess to surmise, the most basic definition of a baseball guy is someone who’s extremely comfortable with the game.
Now, just because you’re a baseball guy doesn’t mean you do all those, nor does doing all those make you a baseball guy. But if you want to go baseball guy hunting, that list is a good place to start.
I think one thing that makes them hard to describe is that they come in many different forms. There are baseball guys who are serious and intense, baseball guys who are complete goofs, and some who are both (goofs most of the time, but get serious when it’s their time to perform).
I absolutely love being around the baseball guys on my teams. I suppose it has to do with the aforementioned comfort with the game, but whatever it is, I prefer to sit near them on the bench, throw with them, talk to them, and do everything with them.
Hopefully if any of you were wondering what exactly a “baseball guy” is, this will at least help to clear it up for you a little.
Monday, March 10, 2008
What a glorious day
Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Independence Day are all days that 94.728% (a rough estimate) of the people that those holidays apply to look forward to and, hopefully, thoroughly enjoy when they come. For us baseball guys, there’s another day to which that description can be duly prescribed.
“Opening day”, you’re all thinking. “I’ve heard a million times before what a great day it is.” Well, as great as Opening Day may be—nay, as great as Opening Day is—that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about today.
No, today I’m here to talk to you about the day of the first outdoor practice of the season. For those of us not located in Florida, Texas, or California, that day usually comes in late February or early March. At younger/lower levels, the first outdoor practice is usually the same thing as the first practice period. But at older/higher levels, you’ve been going at it for weeks or months by the time you first set foot outside. And that’s probably the very reason why the first outdoor practice has so much more anticipation when you’re older.
You’ve been hitting off of tees and hitting soft tosses and flips in cages so long that you forget what it’s like to hit a ball and see it travel 350 feet—the indoor nets will have none of that. No, inside you’re merely left to wonder: would that have stayed fair or curved foul? Was that headed over the fence? Could the left fielder have gotten to that?
And ground balls, well, you can take as many of them as you want on a smooth rubber/tile/cement floor. But until you have to deal with rocks and mounds and bumps, you’re never quite sure how good you are.
Fly balls are essentially a no go indoors. Sure, you can do a few simulation drills, but with a 75 foot ceiling and the balls being thrown, it’s absolutely positively nothing like that real deal.
But when you get outside, all these what-if’s, all these question marks, turn to yeses or nos.
And best of all, there’s fresh air. There’s grass. There’s dirt. There’s space. There’s….nothing like lacing your spikes up for the first time since fall ball. Nothing like being able to really long toss. Nothing like being able to spit.
Yes, the first outdoor practice is magical, a day of new beginnings and high hopes.
“Opening day”, you’re all thinking. “I’ve heard a million times before what a great day it is.” Well, as great as Opening Day may be—nay, as great as Opening Day is—that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about today.
No, today I’m here to talk to you about the day of the first outdoor practice of the season. For those of us not located in Florida, Texas, or California, that day usually comes in late February or early March. At younger/lower levels, the first outdoor practice is usually the same thing as the first practice period. But at older/higher levels, you’ve been going at it for weeks or months by the time you first set foot outside. And that’s probably the very reason why the first outdoor practice has so much more anticipation when you’re older.
You’ve been hitting off of tees and hitting soft tosses and flips in cages so long that you forget what it’s like to hit a ball and see it travel 350 feet—the indoor nets will have none of that. No, inside you’re merely left to wonder: would that have stayed fair or curved foul? Was that headed over the fence? Could the left fielder have gotten to that?
And ground balls, well, you can take as many of them as you want on a smooth rubber/tile/cement floor. But until you have to deal with rocks and mounds and bumps, you’re never quite sure how good you are.
Fly balls are essentially a no go indoors. Sure, you can do a few simulation drills, but with a 75 foot ceiling and the balls being thrown, it’s absolutely positively nothing like that real deal.
But when you get outside, all these what-if’s, all these question marks, turn to yeses or nos.
And best of all, there’s fresh air. There’s grass. There’s dirt. There’s space. There’s….nothing like lacing your spikes up for the first time since fall ball. Nothing like being able to really long toss. Nothing like being able to spit.
Yes, the first outdoor practice is magical, a day of new beginnings and high hopes.
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