Aug 01, 2012 | Dave Briggs | 1901 views
And the team played on…
The game was lost. The season was over. Yet, the members of
the St. Thomas Formet mosquito house league baseball team wanted to play on...
In a ragged semi-circle on the outfield grass — their red shirts mostly untucked, many of them wearing something other than the standard issue black hats that went missing weeks ago — they were becoming impatient. As the coach droned on with his “chins up, don’t be disappointed” speech, they began to inch away with communal looks of “Um… can we go now?”
When the coach finally stopped talking, they grinned and turned and sprinted for the playground behind the Mt. Brydges diamond — friends and teammates united as twilight painted the trees golden and brought relief to another humid day.
Despite a third straight night on the road, the parents were in no rush to leave either. They chatted and laughed and beamed as they cast glances toward their children. They, too, were an amiable group that understood how rare it was for personalities to mesh both behind and in front of the backstop.
Strange, then, that it was the coach that took the longest to find the joy in the final moment. From the beginning, he had preached fun over victory, friendship and sportsmanship and class and teamwork over glory. Yet, long into the night, he was left struggling with “what ifs” and self-doubt.
Perspective arrived the next morning courtesy of an incredible group of 10 and 11-year-old kids. There on the kitchen table was a thank you present — a card and baseball signed by them all.
What would he remember from the summer of 2012?
The playground at Mt. Brydges, of course.
The shaving cream pie in the face.
A raucous Pizza Hut party after a 19-3 loss.
Water balloons at practice.
Players running down foul balls at a Tomcats game and sprinting over to the home team’s dugout to trade them in for practice balls.
Wiffle ball in Pinafore Park pitting parents vs. players.
Posing for a team picture in the outfield at New York Central as if we just won the World Series, not lost big to the cross-town rivals.
Friends talking loudly in the dugout about anything but baseball.
There were wins, too, of course. Ten of them in 16 games. There also was tremendous improvement on the diamond.
Yet, this team will be remembered for its personality and perspective and its sheer joy for the game and each other.
On that scoreboard, there isn’t another team in the land that could touch us.