By Bill King
Jean and I had the joy of watching the KC Royals play ball recently. I must say, I can’t remember many sporting events that I have enjoyed more. We laughed until our lips ached! I’ve heard the expression that something was a comedy of errors, and that game was definitely that, mixed with cuteness. It was the end of their season, and a young friend of ours, who plays on one of the teams, had asked us to come watch him play. I think he plays second base, but then so did several others. It seemed that around half the team played second base, or at least in a position somewhere between the pitcher’s mound and first base…all at the same time. I guess that was because most of the hits seemed to come that way. All 6-or-so second basemen, or base girls, converged on the rolling balls like a brood of chickens descending on a grounded June bug. Yes, there were two girls on the team. One of them wore pink shoes to match her pink fielder’s glove. To add to our entertainment pleasure, one of the ladies turned a cartwheel as she took the field. Not many of the players played in the outfield because not many hits made it out that far. Actually, those who played in the outfield literally “played” in the outfield but not necessarily ball.
As for the pitcher, there wasn’t one. No, I don’t mean the pitchers weren’t any good; I mean they literally didn’t have one. Every batter that went to the plate made a hit…eventually. No one struck out. Most of them reached first base except for one young fellow who hit the ball and took off straight for the dugout. Actually, he did eventually reach first base because one of the coaches took him by the hand and led him to first base.
A few of the batters lined up facing the wrong way. A couple of times, the umpire, or perhaps he was the coach; anyway, he stood behind the plate, physically picked up a player and set him back down, facing them in the right direction. Since the average age of the players was only about four-or-five years, lifting them wasn’t any problem. Oh, you didn’t think I meant “the” KC Royals, did you? They did have the proper uniforms. They wore powder-blue jerseys with “Royals” written across the chest. Their uniforms were at least a dozen or two sizes smaller than the ones the big boys in the major leagues wear. They also were not from Kansas City. They were from LaGrange, Georgia, or somewhere in that general area.
Did I mention that they hit the ball off a tee? It was much like golf, except the ball sat about waist high to the batters. It was much like my first-golfing experience in that most of them swung at the ball several times before they actually made contact. One batter, with bat in hand, circled the tee several times, dragging his bat on the ground behind him before the umpire/coach finally landed him on the correct side of the tee. Some of the players were the most-polite athletes I’ve ever seen. A couple of them, after making a hit, turned around and handed the umpire/coach the bat before taking off the first base, or third base, or the dugout, according to whichever direction they decided to run.
Everyone who ever learns to do anything has to begin somewhere. Those beginnings always include making errors. The real error would be to never let them play, make errors, and therefore learn.
