Pee Wee Sports

I grew up on my parents' stories of playing stickball in the streets of Brooklyn and Baldwin. My mom idolized the Brooklyn Dodgers, knew all the players' names and their stats, and went to every game she could. She even went bike riding with one of them. The stories fascinated me, and I wanted to play ball, and to be able to watch a team with the same intimate connection the people of Brooklyn had with their home team.

But it just wasn't like that out on Eastern Long Island.

When I was a kid, the only organized children's sport I was aware of (outside of school) was Little League baseball, and that awareness came only in 4th or 5th grade. And it was only for boys. I remember being fascinated by it when I heard of it, and yearned to be able to play. My dad bought me a bat, ball and glove for my birthday and he played with me out in the yard...but it wasn't the same. I wanted to be on a team.

Later, I heard from the City kids about CYO basketball, but there wasn't any out here near us, until I was really too old to start. The little of basketball I learned was from these City kid neighbors, who moved in the summer after 5th grade.

In gym class, starting in jr. high, we were taught organized sports, and I loved the challenge of the competition. I wanted to win! But that was a far cry from the real thing, and when I was finally old enough to try out for a JV team, I found my skills woefully lacking. Kids who'd come from Catholic schools were great at basketball, and girls with older brothers had more opportunities at baseball (preparing them for softball) than I'd had. I did end up playing several JV and Varsity sports, but never was on any kind of championship all-star team, with the thrill of compiled victories. I actually settled into gymnastics, volleyball, field hockey and track, where my lack of childhood play-time wasn't inhibiting. It was fun, but lacked that certain something I was looking for.

For No. One Son, Little League started with tee-ball, for both boys and girls, and he played with all the seriousness and fierce determination a focused 5-year-old can muster. He played all the way through "the majors", often on strong teams, basking in the glow of victory. DD was chomping at the bit on the sidelines, and when her turn came, she played just as hard as her older brother did. As the boys and girls were separated out into softball and baseball later on, she was disappointed at the lack of serious competition on the girls' fields. Too many of her teammates were fancy little sissy-girls, lolling about in the outfield, too afraid to break a fingernail to attempt catching the ball. She looked on longingly at her brother's games, seeing that the determination these players had was mostly missing in her league. How can you have any real competition, when half the players aren't even trying to win? She got quite frustrated, and turned her athletic eyes to other outlets.

When DH found I was pregnant with Little Sir, he was thrilled at the prospect of a little soccer (futbol) player in the making. He showed him his favorite team's colors on the day he was born, and the televised games and following commentary seemed a constant backdrop to his babyhood.

We have checked out the various sporting opportunities, trying to make sure he doesn't miss out on any, as soon as he's old enough. The first was Pee Wee Family Sports...a sampling of basketball, baseball and soccer, for the 4-5 year old set, this summer.

Little Sir 4-Year-Old had his very first basketball and baseball classes at Riverhead Town Rec. Dept.'s Pee Wee Family Sports this week. There were about 30 little ones, with their grown-up partners. This was fodder for the likes of Candid Camera, or America's Funniest Home Videos. Most of the little ones had never run laps before (picture the first 5 minutes with a few tripping and falling, crying to their mommies on the sidelines, and others looking at them a little confused and now-scared.) Then, the idea of listening to the Coach's instructions was a challenge..."How can I possibly pay attention to this big man boring me to death using words I don't even understand?"...when looking on at all the other little kids was much more interesting. After the detailed lecture on "How To Dribble a Basketball", the little ones got to actually DO it. Ah yes...30 4-year-olds, most of whom have never even really noticed dribbling before, trying to manage that unruly orange sphere, which keeps trying to get away from them.

Then, after about 10 minutes, which had most of the parents in hysterics, the Coach
told the kids now they had to use only their right hands. Right hand? Which is that? An interesting exercise followed...then only the left...THEN...when it couldn't possibly have gotten any more confusing for them...they had to alternate...right...bounce...left...bounce...right...bounce...

Oh, yeah. Then came the passing drills...bounce pass...chest pass. More basketballs gone wild.


The following day was more of the same, just with a little more control on the little ones' parts.

Today was the first day of baseball. Now, I am not in charge so I am not going to comment on what I think they are doing wrong, BUT...it is very difficult for a little child to catch a hard, smooth plastic ball with a glove, when that ball is too big to fit inside the glove. 'Nuff said. After about 15 frustrating minutes, little ones and their grown-up partners starting drifting toward the shade, and several left early.

Little Sir had fun. He loves basketball and baseball. But so far, it has been a lot more fun in our front yard, where he actually gets to shoot at the basket, and throw and catch a ball that fits the glove, and is the right consistency. And hitting the ball and running the bases is absolutely the most fun of all.

Can't wait to see what next week brings.