Winning the Day: Saving Baseball

By Dick Durland

Major League Baseball has a problem. Over the past couple of decades batting averages have slumped severely, strikeouts have doubled, and OBP has plummeted. Soaring costs and skyrocketing salaries are accompanied by widespread cheating, 1 and 2 tool players, elong

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadersMagnet LLC
• Release date: Jun 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890915641

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Winning the Day: Saving Baseball

Copyright © 2024 by Dick Durland - Author LLC

Published in the United States of America

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024900458

ISBN Paperback: 979-8-89091-563-4

ISBN eBook: 979-8-89091-564-1

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To Ben

Thanks for picking us up.

PREFACE

"Don’t be sad it’s over……be happy that it happened". Although the saying is rife with ‘count your blessings’ sentimentality, the truth is although I can revisit the happy whenever I’d like (the highlight reel easily stretching from here to my grave), some sad remains. Because if what our kid was forced to endure throughout his own personal baseball journey wasn’t enough, there’s always the present state of the game to consider as well.

It was, and always will be one of the best rides of my life. A prolonged whirlwind of vicarious promise, expectation, exhilaration and glory…. albeit filled with intermittent moments of outrage, disgust, and downright disbelief. But in the end we were all the better for it, parent and student-athlete alike having shared and bonded beyond anything to which mere words could do justice. Because ultimately, having been so consistently confronted with the petty BS and systematic obstructionism that inevitably came with the terrain, the final victory…. the "I told you so".…. that would eventually be ours to keep was only made that much sweeter.

Even to this day I hold some disdain. Not for the game, but the process itself. However, by remaining an unwavering witness throughout I’ve gained boundless insight and consequent advice, the sum of which will undoubtedly help to minimize (or at the very least, shed much needed light on) the pitfalls associated with the quest from T-ball to NCAA Collegiate level baseball. After all, I lived it…having a birds-eye view from the inside every step of the way.

And it’s because of this fact that I’m whole-heartedly convinced that today’s professional baseball fields are most assuredly not full of the best players to be found, and by extension can safely make a similar assumption about every other professional sport as well. I’ll even go so far as to declare that it’s an undeniable fact. That is to say, indisputable proof exists supporting the notion that for every pro athlete that takes the field in today’s MLB, there are hundreds of players out there who either are or could have been every bit as good, and possibly better. More likely thousands, I dare say. And as I’m about to demonstrate in simple enough terms…. the numbers support it. I could begin by stating some obvious facts, such as over the last few decades the average number of strikeouts per game has sky-rocketed while both batting average and on-base-percentage have both plummeted. Collectively, direct indications that major league baseball talent is mired in an extended downturn. But just in case you didn’t know already, let that serve as the starting point for our discussion.

Meanwhile, I might also open my argument by submitting ‘Exhibit A’…. Tom Brady. Now here’s a guy who recently made his tenth appearance under center in the biggest game of the year, the Super Bowl. That’s tenth! Which means on average he’s led his team to the Championship Game every other year he’s been in the league…. for 20 years! A super-human feat, right? Agreed. And to know that modern day football’s G.O.A.T. (greatest of all time) wasn’t drafted until the 199th pick in the 2000 draft is simply amazing! Or is it? Once boiled down, the facts actually support the idea that it’s not really as amazing as maybe the average football fan thinks. Even at the 199th pick, this guy can more than just play. But he wouldn’t be the Tom Brady we all know and love (or perhaps have grown to hate because of his level of success) if he didn’t end up getting his ‘shot’. I mean when Brady was picked, he was figuratively and literally sitting down at the end of the bench, wasn’t he?

More to the point, if you’ve never had a kid who spent his childhood toiling around in sports at the amateur level, chances are you’ve never given it a second thought and assume that the ones that can really play, ascend. While to some degree this is certainly true, I can assure you that the selection process along the way can be anything but on the level…. and that’s putting it mildly.

That said, I’ve never lost any sleep considering the possibility that my kid could someday play for the Boston Red Sox. Not one wink. This book isn’t about such lofty expectations. Much to the contrary, it’s simply about every kid having an equal opportunity to reach his or her potential no matter the level of play they currently enjoy or may ultimately achieve…. regardless of chosen sport. That, and to warn those who venture out into relative waters about the droves of individuals out there who DO lose sleep…. only to eventually come to the sad realization that more times than not good isn’t great, great may not be good enough, and 99.9 percent of the time their connections will only get them so far.

*****

As I’m writing this our kid is in his senior year of College having just played the first couple of weeks’ worth of games in his final season as his team’s starting left-fielder, batting second in a decent hitting line-up…..the best in his four years on the team. In the half dozen games played so far, he’s scored six times while knocking in an additional five with three stolen bases and a couple of assists to his credit in this still young season. Just as we’ve come to expect over the years, he’s being counted on to help lead his team and to be consistently productive in this, his final year. So far, that’s exactly what he’s doing, perhaps attempting to duplicate or even improve upon his exemplary Sophomore campaign when he led the team with a .455 OBP (3rd in the conference) while batting a more than respectable .318. Little does anyone know he’s not supposed to be here.

The game had always been thought of as just that, a game. Looking back, it truly amazes me just how corrupt and at such an early stage, things became. And that fact only helps to add credence to my belief that most every organization begins with an ideal in mind…. and then people get involved…..the game of baseball being no exception. I would even go so far as to suggest that at least part of the reason people refer to them as "the good old days" is because in many instances the further along we get, the further from the ideal we become.

Boiled down, baseball as I understand it is simple, competitive theater… often referred to as ‘America’s favorite past-time’. Players love to play and fans love to watch, but then there are those who place themselves in roles of control over the proceedings. This is the part where people get involved. While the field boasts some of the best players of the day and seats remain full of everyday average fans (some a tad more raucous than others - yours truly included), intermingled in this landscape are individuals with agendas, power-hungry wrinkles in the cosmos who know how to play the game. And as such, they know where to best position themselves for maximum effect, taking full advantage in their self-appointed roles as puppet-masters to their utmost ability. While their approach is recognizable to all…..wielding power and/or control over that which supposed knowledge has been gained, especially when in this instance there’s opportunity to advance their own kid’s status…..it none-the-less is utterly unsightly and at times can become downright despicable. And now for the exclamation point. The ‘system’ is conveniently set up to accommodate such individuals, a fact of which they are all too quick to turn into their own personal unmitigated leverage. Moreover, they believe the sooner they can ingrain themselves into the proceedings in this manner, the better.

That’s how it starts. Where it ends directly correlates to the level of insanity that drives it…..each case taking on a life of its own, with the majority becoming literally never-ending.

Thus, for the sake of every player who has ever laced them up (or whoever will) that has aspirations and/or harbors the common dream of becoming more, I offer relief regarding the circumnavigation of the oft-times blatant tilting of an otherwise perfect playing field. A veritable path forward through the litany of obstacles that present themselves as both individuals and organizations alike.

While it’s fun to imagine your kid playing in the Majors one day, of course the truth of the matter is the odds suggest it’s a million to one shot against that ever coming to fruition (in this day of on-line shortcuts, you can certainly look up the actual odds if you feel the need). At any rate, that’s not to say that any young player who exhibits a knack for the game shouldn’t be encouraged to pursue his/her desire to play, and equally encouraged to reach their potential. And one day….far into the future…..well, who knows?!?! But let me assure you, the ‘system’ as it stands does not necessarily support such lofty goals. At least not for all involved.

That’s because the game of baseball has a problem. A problem rooted in a profound lack of forethought…..or so it seems. For it’s now apparent that the product being rolled out and put on display on today’s major league fields boasts an over-abundance of mere one and two tool players, drooping statistics, ongoing cheating, ever-increasing game lengths, etc….not to mention the exorbitant amount of money changing hands, the expense of attending, lack of access, ingrained politics…..I could go on. When all along the solution is as basic as it gets. It’s so simple in fact that there’s no way you’d ever believe me if I flat out told you.

However, if I were to try…..I might start with the analogy that diamonds are worth what they are because ‘oversight’ only allows so many to be released into circulation at a time, when the truth is they’re much more plentiful than the powers that be will ever let on. So it is with the game of baseball, a fact that I’m about to prove to you in a variety of incontestable ways.

Lord knows, back when we were first entering the fray, I wish someone had told us the things that I’m about to tell you. Because undoubtedly, you’ll be running into the same unforeseen pitfalls we did. But even if you should come up against a mere fraction of what our son faced, heed my words of advice. As it’s due to the sheer consistency of the number of occurrences as well as the magnitude of my findings that I refuse to believe these same scenarios are not playing themselves out on most every playing field all across the known baseball landscape. You see, it’s been my experience that unrelenting resistance ends up presenting itself in many shapes and forms along the way toward reaching your kid’s potential. But at the end of the day, you still need two things…..ability and opportunity. Hence, my warning to you remains: should you be lucky enough to possess an over-abundance of the former, you never-the-less may have a problem with the latter.

For those who come after us, the contents of this book may very well assist you on your path to success, as it certainly holds value as a consummate ‘parent advocate’ handbook. But that would fall secondary to the fact that it helps to quantify the very root of baseball’s problem, it’s long-lasting and widespread affect(s), and finally, how to re-instill the magic once associated with the beauty of ‘America’s favorite pastime’. But most importantly, as it turns out…..it’s simple, logic-based, and best of all…..achievable.

THE BEST OF TIMES

As I sit

here next to an oversized jar of scribed baseballs, my mind wandering in a multitude of directions at once, I remain perplexed at the task at hand.

First, you should know that this book is not about that one in a million kid who overcomes all odds prior to achieving greatness. It’s about any kid, all kids…the ones playing in your backyard getting a fair shake by breaking down barriers that exist all around them in order to reach their true potential.

Today, if I was to attempt to describe it to the average person, all I can say is that the degree to which I miss watching my kid play the game is damn near unfathomable. I can tell you that to this day, staring through a chain link fence watching a Little League contest remains chicken soup to my soul and is all too capable of bringing a tear to my eye. Everyone should feel this deeply about something. And I can tell you that I’m not alone. My wife, Sue, hasn’t touched the bag she carried to our kid’s games since the last one we attended. To my credit, the catcher’s mitt I used to warm him up still holds the last ball he threw to me when he played, and sits almost religiously next to my writing desk on a small wooden cabinet purchased exclusively to house my meager writings. It’s been over a year now, and it still feels like something inside has died. And I’m dumbfounded as to the reason I can’t explain in good enough terms to the average passer-by why that is other than to say that I lived vicariously through him game after game, season to season, through all those wondrous years.

I suppose it’s as good a start as any to say that the game of baseball, more-so than most sports, is mired deeply in statistics and while one can’t change the numbers, different stories can be derived from them.

This is ours.

*****

Aaaaahhhhhh………….T-ball! The first indication that team sports could be a good thing for the kids and whole family as well. Outside, kids running, playing, team focus……and who cared if the ‘uniform’ was an oversized tee shirt and baseball cap (appropriately dubbed his Jiffy Pop hat) pinned in the back just to keep it on. It was all good, even exciting I dare say…..for everyone involved.

Especially for one particular youngster who had no idea that baseball could be so much fun. We were somewhere in the middle innings of a typical Saturday afternoon t-ball game…

*****

Nobody on, nobody out. The ‘darling’ of our team stepped up to the plate, a small but stout kid who also happened to have Downs Syndrome, trying to find his way, trying to fit in just like all the rest. Shortly after stepping up to the plate (a bigger stage unimaginable in his so far smallish world) he swung the bat, making surprisingly solid contact. While the ball was sent out in one direction or the other to eventually be fielded by the closest 3 or 4 players of the opposing team, the small gathering of parents, players, and coaches all screamed in unison as Derek took off from home and started rounding the bases…in the WRONG direction. The cheering continued as further direction from the sidelines was now being offered amongst the raucous noise. GO THE OTHER WAY! THE OTHER WAY!!! And finally…..he did. Upon hitting third base and turning to head for second, he abruptly altered his course running directly across the mound for first, the cheering growing ever louder as he did. SAFE! And there he stood on first base with his first hit ever, his enormous smile lighting up the entire infield.

*****

It was perfect. There was no one standing on either side of the field that wasn’t rooting for that kid, on that play, on that day. And although it was many years ago now, I can’t help but remember how innocent, how pure the feeling was that accompanied cheering that kid on and just as sure that everyone in attendance felt the same way. For anyone there watching, no matter the score…..there was absolutely no doubt that Derek had just ‘won the day’.

Yup, those were the days alright. But alas, time stops for no one and before we knew it all those same kids were in Little League. At first it was ‘Coach pitch’, due entirely to the fact that none of the players could actually throw a strike. These were also the beginning of the ‘Dad coach’ years, but maybe even more-so, the start of an awakening as to what that really meant. More times than not it was mostly about a parent who just wanted to be involved with his kid’s activities…..with the game and the whole scene simply becoming too overly appealing to not be a part of…..that is, if you had the time to invest. These are the guys that were very aware and therefore out of an abundance of caution, careful not to outwardly demonstrate the kind of favoritism that was reserved for the other kind of Dad coach - the always scheming, agenda driven antithesis to what Little League is supposed to be all about.

It started small enough, sometimes blending in so well with the proceedings it could be difficult to distinguish. So much so, I recall showing up to one of the first practices our kid had with his new LL team, only to hear Coach yelling out at one of the players. "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING OUT THERE? MOVE! MOVE! C’MON…..MOVE ALREADY!!!!" It wasn’t exactly the norm at this level to be barking like that at the kids, but then it dawned on us. It was his kid that was drawing his ire. OK, now I get it. But the bottom line remained that this father/son relationship was not detrimental to the other team members, at least in terms that he never let that relationship get in the way of making good game time decisions. As a matter of fact, this coach ended up going out of his way on occasion to demonstrate the very opposite.

As such, the interactions between him and his kid, while a tad undesirable, never detracted from a good game of baseball between two cross town rivals on any given outing. The general rule remained that each kid had to sit on the bench at least one inning in every game, and Coach stuck to it. I know we certainly had no problem with it…..after all, this was Little League. Everybody plays. Good enough. So, with the exception of some games he would eventually pitch in, our kid Ben would sit his inning on the bench whenever his name was called. I even recall a time or two he offered to sit just so someone else could get out there and play some. That’s just the way he was. It was all good.

So, the yelling at your own kid thing I could look past. I mean even though it was in front of the rest of them, at least they all knew it was his kid. But then other issues…..things that mattered to the rest of the players……started creeping in. You know what I’m talking about. Suddenly little ‘Jimmy’, who was no better than most anyone else on the team seems to never have his turn sitting on the bench. Hmmm. Not so good. But all part of the Dad coach thing…..sometimes more obvious than at others, but ever-present none-the-less as LL seasons came to pass.

However, it certainly would have been nice if it had stopped there, because for the Dad coach die-hards there was still the Grand Poobah mentality. Simply put, why stop at coaching when you can become President of the League, which is the title that more than one local parent achieved while their kid played through our local Little League system back when we were involved. So now you have the President of the League, overseer of all, also positioning himself as the coach of one or more teams on which his kid is a member. It’s not much of a stretch from there to understand that little Jimmy will now automatically be making the All-Star Team at the end of the season, with a chance to represent the locals at the next level. Nor is it any further stretch of the imagination to come to grips with this same kid not only ‘playing up’ at every opportunity, but playing up outside the scope of what the regulations allow! Yup, that too. Simply put, oversight and the Coach are now one in the same, a single entity with no one in the way of allowing such things to go on! The sheer audacity. Both eye-opening and fascinating all at once. But all part of the landscape as your kid continues to compete against the masses to achieve similar results.

*****

So far, I’m sure none of this is exactly ground-breaking information to anyone out there. As such, you must be wondering if these are just the rantings of some overzealous father of some long ago ex-Little Leaguer who’s managed to maintain a chip on his shoulder all these years and has now found a conduit through which he can pour his angst. OK…..I’m willing to admit there’s some of that. But I can assure you that’s not where this book is aimed, but instead, a mere pitstop not amounting to much more than a first rung on the ladder of possible baseball grandeur. However, I might suggest that in the grand scheme of things to come, indeed….a seed was just planted.

Because, as we would soon discover it turns out what we had witnessed to that point was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg as what I’m about to get into is all but entrenched in conspiratorial overtones. What ends up being somewhat unusual here is I’m not talking about a singular giant conspiracy so much as innumerable small ones spread out across the land that (when considered for what they are) comprise the underpinnings of a system that, simply put, does not necessarily produce the best baseball players. Quite conversely, the end result most assuredly constitutes what can only be best described as the ‘hodge-podge’ aftermath of leveraged opportunities.

Because yes, in actuality the big conspiracy I speak of may be more succinctly defined as being made up of countless small ones, the dynamic itself remaining subtle and going largely unchecked. But it most assuredly exists, collectively a combination of endless variables that when laid out end-to-end make up the fabric of a ‘system’ that is wrought with agendas and entitlement at the lower levels, big business at the higher levels, and well….just plain human nature throughout. And this ‘system’ paves the road for the game that gets played all along the way, widely accompanied with a big lie…..the kind of encouragement that implores you to "let your kid find his own way", when just the opposite is called for….no, demanded…..out of sheer necessity. That is, if you’re not either the fortunate parent of an obvious baseball prodigy or ‘connected’ in some way to your own local system.

*****

But I digress. As with all things, this dynamic would eventually evolve as well. When the kids finally started pitching (also known as the ‘tough years’) most games were solely decided based on the number of walks given up by the opposing pitcher. But still good times, indeed! A couple of days and/or nights every week we’d all head out to the ballfield for either a practice or an actual game. We never missed a single pitch in those days…snacks in hand, advice at the ready, and not a care in the world for neither player nor parent.

It certainly didn’t hurt matters that our kid was a good player, even at that age. I remember prior to that first season when the kids started to pitch, all the Coaches got together and took turns picking from the pool of available players to round out their respective teams. After the starting pitchers were all selected, our Ben was the first ‘position’ player to be chosen out of the sea of possible options. It served as justification for the way we felt about his ability. I mean, after all…..we’re his parents and therefore naturally biased. So, we couldn’t have been any prouder when that little slice of heaven was leaked out of the annual Little League ‘war room’ and ended up catching our ear.

And although we knew the time would eventually come, it arrived all too soon… that is, when the games suddenly became competitive. I’d like to tell you that it was ‘somewhere along the way’ but in essence I know exactly the moment it happened for us. You see, our son started pitching during the latter years of Little League, and that’s when everything changed. All of a sudden……it mattered. Gone