notes from the dugout
(John Bohn / Globe Staff)
Part I
Following his son into a new world
My conversion into a sports fan began with my son Will's first authoritative flick of a fat, purple, plastic bat. For decades, I'd seldom watched or played sports. But on a spring afternoon when Will was 3 1/2, my wife and I issued him a toddler's toy baseball kit. By midsummer, our Newton Lower Falls neighbors drifted over to witness a little dynamo wielding a bat his own height and plunking homers into their yards. Our street's sports sages declared a "natural swing."
Part II
It takes a village to field a Litlte League team
Last year and for five before that, my wife and I had dropped off our boys in the assembly yard behind Tom's Pizza in Auburndale, walked a bit down Commonwealth Avenue, and cheered the Newton West Little League's annual opening-day parade, hollering loudest when Will (now 12 and a Cub) and Eli (now 10 and a Pirate) walked by.
Part III
A notable spirit takes hold
Bowling may happen alone these days, but while helping coach the Newton West Little League Cubs, I've realized that baseball isn't a mere game, it's a zone. Personalities emerge - of kids, coaches, parents, officials - during the small events that comprise a season. We are a village, not a conjured-up days-of-yore version, but still, a place a little better than the real world, fuller of noble activity, and with many more 15-minute spells of fame.
Part IV
Savoring the game's saving graces
We squeezed in a morning practice at the start of the Newton West Little League's Memorial Day weekend break. Coaches Bob Joyce, Kevin Fitzgerald and I sat with each Cub in turn on the bench beside the Hamilton Field backstop, while the rest of the team ran through some drills nearby. Hamilton is a short walk from my home. Our sons call it "the park," and they crawled, toddled, safety-swung, triked, T-balled, and now often wander to the field solo.
Part V
A coach with perfect pitch
Misty, English weather visits Lyons Field, Newton. This afternoon, the arc of freshly leafed trees ringing the diamond looks dark gray and the sky is phosphorescent gray; the new grass shines pale green. A mower and two weed whackers envelope the gathering team in an aggregate hum. We're bees in a working hive. Coach Bob Joyce penetrates the buzzing with a drumbeat of abrupt communications, often tough, often approving.
Part VI
Cute rides the bench
Little League started out cute. The magnificent opening scene warranted the label, with uniformed wee ones bapping singles that devolved into homers, swarming every grounder, emulating our national superstars. Little League's mission statement promises "to develop superior citizens rather than superior athletes." That distinction shapes skill-blind policies at the start. In our Newton West Little League, coaches scheduled equal playing time for each kid, and, with astonishing patience, improved everyone's throwing, catching, and batting.