T-BALL AND THE LESSONS OF LIFE

Public decency.

It's one of the things little boys start thinking about in their first year

of baseball. I wouldn't have believed it, but I saw it with my own eyes.

I gazed out at Max as he manned shortstop for his T-Ball team, his jersey

hanging on him like a nightgown. His left hand held his miniature glove and

his right hand clutched his crotch.

My son, who's about to turn 6 and is wrapping up his first year of

baseball, wasn't alone in exhibiting the behavior. Other parents, too,

recoiled gently at the sight of their kid standing there in the middle of a

game, in front of God and everybody, holding his, well, pants.

What happens next is you wait until the inning ends and casually,

discreetly, sidle up to your athlete.

''Do you have to go to the bathroom?'' you ask in a near whisper.

''No,'' he replies rather snappishly, incredulous that you would ask that

question out of the blue and in such proximity to his teammates.

Later, you diplomatically suggest that while in the field he could crouch

slightly, knees bent, and drop both arms, palms forward, in the ''ready''

position the coach taught him. Or at least he could use his free hand to pound

his glove, the way the big boys do.

He thus becomes more aware of what he's doing while people may be watching,

a lesson that could spare him embarrassment and ridicule for all his years.

MONTHS AGO WHEN I signed Max up for T-Ball I hoped only that he'd learn the

rudiments of the game and have some fun.

He has, and that's been just the beginning. Our Coach taught him and all

the other 6- and 7-year-olds how to hit a pitched ball and to run through

first base, and he taught them some valuable lessons of the bigger game.

Like what?

LIKE SEXUAL EQUALITY, for one.

At the first practice, Max was a little surprised to see that there were

two girls on the team.

Sarah showed up with a bright green glove and a confession that she'd never

thrown or caught a ball, or hit one. Well, the kid has shown she can play.

She's a lefty and when throwing she snaps that ball like from a slingshot.

She hits, too. I can't remember the last time she had to resort to hitting off

the tee after failing to hit pitched balls.

And Tiffany, a tall kid whose ponytail flies out the back of her cap, has

been as good as the boys, too.

At our weekday game earlier this week Tiffany was playing in the infield,

alongside the pitcher's mound. A grounder was hit sharply to her.

She trapped it with her glove, spun around and whipped it to the first

baseman. Out!

Few of the dudes could have done better. I haven't heard a put-down of

girls all season.

PATIENCE AND CONCENTRATION.

I love baseball, but it's true the sport can be a mite boring. Especially

if you're one of the seven or so T-Ball players assigned to the outfield.

You can stand there a long, long time because each batter keeps swinging --

even if the count is 3 balls, 16 strikes -- until he or she hits a ball. And

even when a ball is hit it very often doesn't make it through the seven or

eight kids playing the infield.

So the outfielders get awfully bored. As our team batted slowly through the

15-player order this week, I watched a couple of boys on the opposing team.

They were out in right field and they'd totally forgotten they were playing

a baseball game.

For a while, one of them dug a hole in the dirt with his mitt. Then they

both were on their knees, excavating. Eventually, with the game still fully in

progress, they wrestled on the ground and tried to grab each other's cap.

At any given moment in a T-Ball game, but particularly in the later

innings, half or more of the players in the field will be acting out kung fu,

pretending to snatch up a hard-hit ball and throw the runner out, holding

their crotches, picking pebbles from the dirt, standing with their backs to

the plate and staring into space, sitting and playing with their shoelaces,

kicking up dust or wearing their gloves like leather hats.

Coach is always doing what he can to reel them back into the game.

''Heads up, pal.''

''Max, I need you in ready-position.''

''Let's stand up, Andrew.''

Most of these kids, I imagine, have never had to wait so long for anything.

When the other team finally is out, a player dying for some action sometimes

runs to the dugout and learns that he's now No. 14 in line to bat.

Waiting your turn, listening to the coach, learning to pay attention even

if you're bored -- it's all good training for life past age 6.

DEALING WITH DISAPPOINTMENT.

We had our first case of tears this week. One of our best players hit a

pop-up that the first baseman caught but dropped right near the first-base

line.

Our batter thought the ball was foul so he didn't run to first. We adults

were a little slow in shouting for him to run, and before he could get to the

base he was put out.

He was so upset by getting out that way he cried tears he didn't want his

teammates to see. Took me right back to the time I lost a big game for my team

as a 15-year-old and cried and cried.

Our last game is Saturday. It'll be sad to see the season end because these

kids have had a great time and learned to do a lot, deal with a lot.

We didn't get into victories and defeats; in T-Ball nobody counts the runs.

At game's end, the players care most about what's for snack and if there's

enough of it for seconds.

When they're 8, they'll start keeping score and winning and losing. That'll

be a whole other thing.

Chris Smith is a Press Democrat staff writer. His e-mail address is

Smithpress@aol.com