By Pete Shaw
“Game called on account of Kermit,” it would read in Wednesday’s newspapers.
Here are a few highlights from the game. All names are fictitious to protect the wonderfully innocent.
Freddie hits a ground ball to third base. Philip, the third baseman, has his glove on top of his hat, however, and is turning in slow circles testing his balancing abilities. The glove has further imbedded the hat over Philip’s eyes so he never sees the ball anyway.
Responding to the shrieks of his teammates, Phillip pulls up his hat and looks about. By this time, Lisa, the left fielder, picks up the ball and flings it. The ball barely misses the head of William, the shortstop, who’s pulling his gum out as far as it will go and sucking it back in like spaghetti.
Freddie, the original batter, is rounding first base after being redirected by a coach who intercepts him going down the third base line after his hit.
Wanting to help, Freddie picks up the ball that has rolled into his path and fires it toward home plate.
Priscillo, the pitcher, is ticked “You can’t pick up your own ball, Freddie, she chastises.” (She is obviously the most knowledgeable student in the game.)
“Well, it was goin’ right in front of me and I was just tryin’ to help,” Freddie replies.
During the heated debate, Charlene, the first baseman, is peeling old, “Outrageous Pink” nail polish off her fingernails and has absolutely no interest in the dramatic events of the past minute.
Eleven runs score this particular inning while Arthur teases a honey bee with a dandelion in center field, completely oblivious to the action. Phyllis, in right field, keeps yelling at her little brother who is behind the backstop, “Drink the rest of my 7-Up and I’ll punch your lights out, Bobby!”
The inning is ended when a pop-up fly lands in the glove of Andrew, the second baseman. Andrew is so transfixed by this miraculous event and stands staring at the round, white object that has landed and nestled in his glove.
Even after his teammates have left the field he stands motionless gazing at the ball.
Soon he is escorted from the field and play resumes.
The best part of the contest is that no score is kept.
In truth, no calculator has been developed that has the capacity to “run out” the number of scores that occurred during the three innings.
The newfound skills of the kids and the joy and the innocence of children playing ball would fall under adults who have lost all sense of playfulness.
First of all there were the baseball caps. All were five sizes too big and were suspended on folded and bent ears.
Many of the pee-wee players had to hold their heads at a slightly raised and tilted level in order to get a view of the field of play.
Most of our mini-stars seemed pretty much preoccupied with things other than baseball like waving to parents and grandparents.
In the end, a more common question from the players than “What’s the score” was “What’s for lunch?”
It was a great lesson taught by our little sparkler’s who know a lot more about fun that competition.
Too bad we adults have the two in the wrong order.
In the December 29, 1988 issue of my Running Springs area newspaper I reported on the brave attempts by (then) Arrowbear Fire Chief Reed Pennell and resident Randy Ballinger to round-up a stubborn goose, who due to frostbite or some other problems, was unable to walk on the ice that covered the lake. The successful rescue attempt was made on Monday, Dec. 19 and it was much like a (then) recent whale rescue attempt off Alaska, only on a much smaller scale. At least the Chief and Ballinger didn’t trudge through the ice for nothing.
