I always take my hot dogs with a little bit of mustard and ketchup. Whether they come off the grill, or from a steamer, it really doesn’t matter, because during baseball season, hot dogs are the staple I exist on. And the act of having a hot dog means it is baseball season, and that is a beautiful thing! I have been a volunteer coach and umpire for little league baseball for 14 seasons.In the early 70’s as a scrawny kid, I grew up in Middlebury, Vermont. I was in the lower middle of six children, 3 sisters and 2 brothers. Mom and Dad both worked anywhere from 40 to 60 hours a week just to put clothes on our back and food in our bellies. I was the kind of kid who never put many demands on my parents, I took what they gave, and actually showed signs of appreciation. I knew we didn’t have very many ‘extras’ but that was ok.
I was a Red Sox fan through and through. Every now and again if I was lucky, Dad would pile everybody into the car and drive the long and winding road to Boston to see the Sox in action. In the playground after school, you could often find me standing atop the pitchers mound sporting my cap, and staring down an imaginary batter. I would take the sign, raise my eyes to the sky, hold my hands over my head and shake them down just like Luis Tiant and deliver the pitch, strike three!
Whenever I played baseball after school, I was often the only girl. I played 2nd base for our sandlot games. I remember very distinctly the time a big twelve year old was up at bat, he hit a hard line drive right at me. I didn’t have time to get my glove up, but I certainly got my body in front of it as thwack, it hit full steam into my chest and dropped straight down in front of me. Let me tell you, it hurt, but baseball players don’t think about the pain until the play is over. I picked the ball up and threw the runner out at 1st base before doubling over. I was only 9 years old, but the boys all liked having me on the team.
At that point in my life, girls were not allowed to play little league baseball. I couldn’t figure out why. I used to go to the games and watch. It was torture to watch all the boys hitting, fielding, throwing, and pitching…all things that because I was born a girl, I wasn’t allowed to do. Then it happened, when I turned 10 I found out that somebody had decided to let girls play little league baseball. I was overjoyed, this was my chance!
I rode my bike home, as fast as I could. I couldn’t wait to ask my Dad for permission to play. I knew he would let me, he was a baseball fan, and he surely would understand. He wasn’t home when I got there, and I knew that asking Mom was not going to get any results, as her response would be “ask your father”. So, I waited. The day drifted by, slowly, I don’t recall a longer day in my life.
When Dad got home, he was greeted with big hugs from all of us. Dad was a cook, and he always wore a white tee shirt, and black and white checkered pants. His waist was big, so hugging him was fun, trying to wrap your arms as far around him as you could. I couldn’t take time to ask about his day, or let him even sit down. I told him about the new rule change, and asked him if I could play. I still to this day have never been able to figure out his reasons, but whatever they were, he told me I couldn’t play. He never wavered even though I cried. It felt like a death sentence to me at the time.
I did play softball when I reached 7th grade and all through high school, and even played in college. But there is a big difference between baseball and softball. I love baseball. There is something about the game that once it gets in your blood, that’s it, you can’t shake it. I’m not sure if it is the speed of the game, the sound a ball makes when it connects with the bat, or the spin on a curve ball that makes it dip teasingly past a batter. I can tell you that once you get the fever, there is no turning back.
I never thought of coaching sports even though I loved them so much, until after I broke up with my fiancé 14 years ago. Kevin had been a hockey coach, and I used to go with him to all the games and practices. After separating, I decided it was time to try coaching for myself. It was a natural fit for me, as I love children, and I love sports.
The rest is history as they say. I have volunteered now as coach and umpire for 14 seasons and can’t imagine ever giving it up. There is absolutely nothing on earth more satisfying then watching a youngster get their first hit. In 14 seasons I have been able to help children learn not only about baseball, but also about many other things important in life. I have seen many smiles, and felt the pain deep in my heart when team members cry after a big loss. For all the highs and lows, and for all the in betweens, there have been some lifelong memories of the players and the families and the true friendships I have formed along the way.
I never got to play and live my own dream, but through coaching I can help others to realize theirs. It is something that drives me on to try to be the best that I can be. I appreciate each and every moment that I am able to set foot on a baseball field and play with these fine young people. I still can’t believe that I don’t have to pay someone to let me do it!
After each game that I coach or umpire, there is always a hot dog and coke waiting for me at the concession stand. I get paid with hot dogs. I’ll have mine with a little mustard and ketchup, please!
2004 A S S Trivia Champ
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Did you ever find out why your dad said no? I am glad it didn't dampen your enthusiasm for the game and you have helped so many children and their families.
