Small Ball

The wistful, vaguely patriotic theme music for ESPN's "50 States in 50 Days" promotion is a song called "Open Road," by Bryan Adams, who is Canadian. That, friends, is funny.

Randy Moss smoked pot? Really? Man, I never saw THAT coming. In a related story, the sun rose this morning.

That Kellogg's advertisement running during the Little League World Series, the one where Tony the Tiger leads a team of kids through infield drills while they chant a knockoff version of "We Are The Titans?" It's creepy. Somebody had to say it.

On that note - Sid Cash, the manager of the Maitland Little League team that has captured the hearts of Central Florida, used to coach in the North Orlando Kiwanis Little League, where I played for several years. In fact, I played against his son and his nephew, both of whom, like me, are now well into their 30's. When I watch his team today, Mr. Cash looks exactly the same as I remember him from when I was twelve years old. The twelve-year-olds, however, look like infants. I'm stopping this paragraph before it turns into a George Will column.

But while on the topic of Little League: if I were in charge, no kid would ever be allowed to throw a breaking ball. Ever. Fastball, changeup, maybe a cut fastball (two seams as opposed to four), that's it. If a kid leads with his elbow and snaps one off, the batter draws an automatic walk. I don't care how advanced your kid is physically, or how good his personal trainer is. No twelve-year-old should ever throw a curve. And whatever happened to a good change-up, anyway?

In my league, an immediate ejection for any manager who teaches a kid to lean into a pitch to draw a free pass. Ditto if he instructs a runner on second base to flash the catcher's signals to the batter. Give the kids extra batting practice, teach them to keep their butts down on ground balls and hit the cutoff man, and pay for the ice cream after the game. After that, hush up and let them play. Okay, so this did turn into a George Will column.

Last point, and you read it here first: there will come a day, maybe as soon as next year, when Little League is compelled to move their fences back from the uniform 205-foot distance. The kids are too big, and the bats are too hot. Make it 215, and raise the fences by two feet, and we're back in business.