Back when I was a kid... early 1970s... I played little league baseball for a season. And it was a truly terrible season. I don't know if Jackson, MI had ever seen a worse team.
There were two distinct levels in the Little League program at that time. And we weren't in the higher level. After try-outs at the Field House at Parkside High School, I along with a few of my friends were sentenced to placed on a team. The upper league got names (Yankees, Tigers, etc.). We got colors. We got Orange.
The upper teams had a Coach, Assistant Coach and Team managers. We got a guy that had never coached a team in any way before. We didn't complain. He was a nice guy.
Let me skip ahead and mention that we didn't win a single game. In the loser conference, we were at the bottom. Actually, I think we were given a gift by having a team show up with too few players and they had to forfeit. But we didn't earn a single win.
The team started with about 15 excited little boys. We would have been around 9 or so. We were all ready to play... 14 pitchers and a catcher. And the only kid that was any good was the catcher. The rest of us just sucked... ok, maybe there was another kid that didn't suck, but most of us HAD to be pretty bad. We couldn't manage a win. And none of us were really pitchers... we just all had the same dream.
But, as the season progressed, there were fewer kids. In some cases, their parents got them on better teams. In other cases, they just stopped showing up. We even had an adult quit... our coach didn't make the last three weeks of the season. I was ready to quit after losing half of the season.
My dad wouldn't let me... I got on my bike on the two days a week we practiced and I rode to the field. I carried my bat, ball and glove. I either rode my bike to the games or rode with my parents. I made it to every game... my dad wouldn't let me NOT show up.
We went from proudly wearing our orange shirts and hats to mumbling about playing baseball... or outright denial.
At the end of the season there were exactly nine little boys on the team. I sucked too bad to play 1st Base... so I played Right Field (the coach thought that there should be a leftie on 1st base... there were two of us). There were nine kids that were forced to finish the season (either by pride or parents). One of those kids was the catcher. He made the All-Star team and got moved up to the "big league" for the following season. I think they felt sorry for him for being good and having to be on our team.
But there was a life lesson there.
Actually there were lots of them... 
- Life isn't fair. We practiced as hard as everyone else... and we sucked. Nine of us kept at it.
- Equal opportunity doesn't yield equal results. If it did, there would be a bunch of teams tied for first/last/every other place in the league.
- Sometimes you have to just do it. I had to be at every practice and game. I was. It wasn't a choice.
- People will let you down... get over it. Our COACH quit. He walked away. One of the mom's actually stepped up. I don't know if she knew which end of the bat to hit with, but she brought the gear and prayed for rain. BTW, I respect her for stepping in even though she knew that she was in over her head.
- Others count on you and you don't know it. The kid that was the catcher wouldn't have had the opportunity to be in the All-Star league if even one more of us had quit.
I never played Little League Baseball again. We moved to Hampton, VA soon after that and I took up other activities. (Boy Scouts, Speed Skating, Skateboarding and doing stupid things on a bike come to mind.) I played softball on a church team and we did quite well. We played other churches, bars, businesses... pretty much anyone. I still wasn't any good.
My son had decided to try T-ball in addition to hockey. I'm letting him. And I'll take him to practice and games. And I'll tell him to suck it up when he isn't liking it... and I will ask him if he is having fun... just to know, because when he makes a commitment, he has to stick with it. The group he is playing with doesn't have set teams, and they don't keep score... it's like a weekly pick-up game... but if he plays competitively next year, he will have to follow through.
Four isn't too young to learn a few things about life... and it also isn't too young to teach a few things about life. Those are other posts...
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I'd love to hear from you...
I love to watch T-Ball - it is the most innocent - unorganized chaos you will ever find.... I have been known to park at the fence and watch the kids even now.... when my youngest is 24 - enjoy it - and remember it is all about FUN
I absolutely love this post! Great life lessons there. I wish more parents were like you and your dad.
Lane
Great life lessons; you have to lose some so the victories feel that much sweeter. Winning breeds confidence and when we have a taste of it we don't like to see it goe away.
All my best
Tom
Lane,
I just started coaching my son's t-ball team a couple of weeks ago.
Life's lessons start early and I realize this. I still remember my first coach and the good impression he left on me.
Hi Lane, Good post. Thanks for sharing.
Best - Sash
Thesa - It is fun... and their first game got rained out.
Mandi - I think they are out there. They are less noticable because they aren't yelling at the coach...
Tom - Knowing that you deserved the win breeds confidence. And to know loss makes winning worthwhile.
Mark - I remember a few of my coaches and teachers. They make big impacts.
Sasha - You're welcome.