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The Wrong Sort (of)
I carved some time out of my wacky schedule to watch my son's first T-ball game. It was a blast. The term "game" applies only loosely. Kids in uniforms stood in the field and chased after balls hit by kids in different uniforms. Parents lined up along the foul lines and shouted encouragement. But no one kept score. Innings ended after both teams ran through a 5-person batting order. Coaches pitched to their own team and hauled out a tee when necessary. Assistant coaches stood in the field to remind players where shortstop is. At times, the kids were more interested in digging holes in the infield dirt with their cleats than anything having to do with a ball. We had a tantrum about Cheetos. And both groups of parents shouted out for everyone on the field. It doesn't really matter what color the kid is wearing, you just need to cheer when he finally notices the ball resting between his feet and throws in the general direction of second base almost in time for a force-out if the second baseman had been on the bag. So T-ball is fun, but I still suspect it's a matter of time before the true believers and competitors are separated from the merely enthusiastic.