Mom and Dad lessons learned from Little League

            The sign by the side of the road was simple– sign up now for Little League Baseball. I smiled just seeing the sign, even though my boys finished baseball games a long time ago.

            For at least 10 years, we rode around with lawn chairs in the back of the van and we ate many a meal at the ballpark, watching practices or waiting for games to start. I miss those days, but I learned a lot through my child's baseball teams.

            Not all coaches are fair. My experience with Little League coaches is 50/50. Half are there because they genuinely love the game and want to pass that enthusiasm and knowledge on to their son or daughter.

            There's a small minority who are there for the wrong reasons – they believe their child is the next Craig Biggio and other players should stay out of their superstar's way.

            They recruit only the kids they think are the best, and they want to win at all costs. Doesn't matter if a child never gets to play as long as the team wins. As bad as this style of coaching is, what's worse are the parents who let these bullies get away with that type of bad behavior.

            So, parents, choose your coach well because their influence over your child will last a lot longer than the cleats.  

            Organized sports are good. And bad. Nothing beats a sand-lot or school-yard Saturday afternoon baseball game where the same kids get together week after week to play ball. But those days are long gone now that our catch phrases are "stranger-danger" and "no trespassing."

            Organized sports have stepped in to allow kids a safe place to play sports, learn the rules and meet other kids. If the rules stayed like that, we'd all be better off.

            Instead, we become slaves to the rules and never question why a simple game of hit the ball, catch the ball and throw the ball has more rules and regulations than the federal government.

            What we need to do is keep organized sports organized and not allow them to morph into a totalitarian state. See "not all coaches are fair" above.

            Teams are just for the kids. As much fun as my sons had playing baseball, I think I had more fun in the stands.  When you're parked on a wooden bench for three hours twice a week, you make friends.

            We laughed in the stands, cheered each others' children on in the stands, weathered the cold, wind, heat and rain in the stands and, along the way, saw the best and the worst of each other and still accepted each other.

            That's because we understood that when our child is involved, our hearts often overrule common sense. And we forgave even the most hot-headed parent in the stands. Because we knew that could be us one of these days, and we hoped others would be as forgiving as we were that evening.

            Patience.  When there's 15 kids on a team, it takes a while for your child to get up to bat. We had to act as if it wasn't a big deal if the game ended right before our child's turn.

            We learned patience when the bases were loaded and our kid was at the plate with two strikes and three balls. Bleacher parents know there's always another turn at bat and always the possibility of an over-the-fence home run.

            They also know nothing beats having somebody at the gate at the end of the game wearing a big smile, proud no matter what the scoreboard says.

            These are just a few of the lessons I've learned through Little League. Life on the other side of the first-base line is where you can always learn a few more life lessons.

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.