The story you are about to read is true; the names have been changed to protect their privacy.

It’s Springtime. And Friday night lights sparks memories of Little League Baseball and all the fun and charm of seeing adolescent boys enjoying America’s traditional pastime.  

Yet youth sports, especially Little League Baseball, is more than just a game but a cauldron of learning opportunities for youthful athletes.  A team sport like baseball helps develop skills beyond those of pitching, throwing, and catching — life lessons on teamwork, communication, eye-hand coordination, agility, perseverance, handling disappointment, and patience, to name a few.  And let’s not forget good sportsmanship.

Which brings me to a story, a true story, of something that happened just a few weeks ago.

Eleven-year-old Bobby plays Little League Baseball in his county’s recreation league. He loves baseball, and is pretty good at it, having made  his county’s all-star team for 10-11 year-olds.  As the season was wrapping up, Bobby’s team had to play a doubleheader. Toward the end of the second game, his team ran out of pitchers.  Little League Baseball limits the number of pitches a player can throw, and on this particular day, with two long games to play, Bobby’s team needed someone to pitch the last few minutes of the game.

Bobby’s coach called on him to fulfill that role.   

Bobby did not like to pitch. In fact, Bobby hated pitching.  He had never even stood on the pitcher’s mound to throw a pitch. He was happy being an All-Star left fielder.  But now, his team needed him.  Reluctantly and with all the confidence of a kid riding a bike for the first time, Bobby stood on the mound knowing two things.  Everybody’s eyes were on him.  And he was going to crash and burn. Fear overwhelmed him — but he pitched anyway.

Sure enough, his first four pitches were balls, and the first batter trotted down to first base. It got worse. The next pitch hit the second batter.  Bobby could no longer hold his emotions in check.  Tears started streaming down his cheeks. Every kid’s nightmare was unfolding, and Bobby wanted to be anywhere but on the pitcher’s mound.  Bobby’s mom sat in the stands struggling to control her emotions.  She wanted to run out to Bobby and hug him.  Instead, she held tight, praying he would somehow get through the inning.

When Bobby took the mound, the opposing team had an imposing lead, and the game’s outcome was not in doubt.  After two batters, everyone wondered, will this inning ever end? And that’s when something amazing happened.

Playing ball in a county recreation league, players often find themselves playing against school pals, and so it was that in the opposing dugout, a number of Bobby’s friends watched with aching hearts.  They liked Bobby.  He was a friend.  More than that, they respected him and knew him to be a good player and a great guy. One of Bobby’s friends could no longer keep quiet. He shouted, “Let’s go, Bobby, let’s go.”

It’s not often you hear encouraging words from the opposition’s dugout.  This author remembers a time as a ten-year-old in 1961, himself playing shortstop on his Little League team when after missing a few grounders, the opposing dugout chanted, “hit it to the shortstop.”  Ten-year-olds can be cruel.  But not today, not in this rural Georgia Little League game.  This day was different.

Before long, other opposing players took up the chant, “Let’s go, Bobby,” urging their friend to do good. Yet, Bobby struggled to find the strike zone.  The opposing team’s coach took the clue from his players and ordered each batter to swing at any pitch.  In other words, do not get on base but strike out swinging.

Soon, Bobby’s nightmare inning was over.

Learning how to win with humility is probably a lot more fun than learning how to lose with grace.  But as Bobby walked off the mound that night, he knew two things.  One, he never wanted to pitch again.  And two, he had some remarkable friends who displayed more sportsmanship than most adults ever do.

That night was not a time when the seeds of toxic behavior were planted in these adolescent males.  On the contrary, sportsmanship, dare I say, chivalry, found its way into the hearts of a bunch of ten and eleven-year-old boys.

For me, such chivalrous behavior gives me hope. As these young boys grow into manhood, they will remember a Little League game in 2023 when being boys of honor and kindness, they helped a friend get through a challenging situation.

And that’s a lesson we all can learn.

_{Note: Thanks to Ben Hershey on Unsplash.com for the photo.}