Our
son was ten years old at the time, which means it was twenty seven years ago.
It was the first time I had ever heard of such a thing and I really didn’t
think it was true. I came to find out that it was, indeed, true. I would have
to think it had been around before that, but this was just the first time it
had come into our area. After much research into child development, our local little
league was going to institute a new program for those children in the under ten
year old leagues. From that point forward every kid on every team would get to
bat every inning, even if they were not playing in the field. A child could
make an out, but three outs did not end the inning. Every child got to bat. No
score was kept. No one lost and no one won. Every child got to play at least
three innings in the field. At the end of the year there would be no champion. Everyone
was a winner. Every child would be given a participation trophy. No child would
feel bad for poor performance, either by their own performance of by the team’s
performance. The important thing was that each child would enjoy the games and
have fun. Not only was this going to happen in the little league, but it was
also going to happen in the younger soccer and basketball leagues, only with
varying rules that fit those sports.
My
immediate response to that was, “Stupidest thing I have ever heard.” My next
thought was, “This has to have come from a group of mommies.” (I researched it
and it did come from a group of mommies.) Apparently, our little darlings are
to young to have to deal with winning and losing at such an early age. I was
certain that it would never catch on.
I
was wrong. Not only has it caught on, it has expanded. In many places, grades
in school are pass/fail, rather than
the traditional A, B, C, D and F. In many of those places, you are promoted to
the next grade regardless. When I was in high school, my highest grade goal was
to maintain at least a C in everything. Otherwise, I could not play sports. I
goofed off. Marsha and I were extremely proud of the daughter of some friends
of ours. She had done well in school and then went on to college. She told us
one day she was graduating with honors. Wow, that was wonderful! Considering my
poor high school showing, and my struggles in college, I was somewhat proud to
tell her that in graduate school I graduated with honors with my Master’s
degree. An achievement. Married, a child, pastoring full time and still
graduating with honors, some twenty years earlier. “Really”, she said, “what
honors?” “Cum Laude,” I replied. Cum laude is the lowest level of honors, but
it is honors. “Oh,” she said with a smile. “That’s nice. I’m graduating Summa
cum Laude.” Summa cum Laude is highest honors. I was impressed. I could never
have managed that. We went to the graduation. The arena was packed. The
graduating students were all seated in their neat rows. The school president
stepped to the podium and started his speech. He asked all the students who
were graduating with honors to stand. Several hundred students graduating that
day. A quick count on my part showed twenty students not standing. Marsha got
twenty two. We are not talking Harvard here. In was a University located in the
inner city of an old and dying city. There was no way that many kids had
achieved that kind of excellence. Unless the program had been dumbed down to
the point that you had honors if you managed to get through without committing
any major felonies. No wonder she had given me that little smile. In her world,
cum Laude was what the slow learners got.
I
always wondered what kind of effect giving a trophy to everyone and pass/fail and easy honors would have on a
generation. After the last presidential election, we saw the fullness of the
program come to fruition. College kids became enraged. They rushed to their ‘safe
places’ to rant and weep. In some places they took to the streets to express
themselves with violence and destruction. They demanded recounts, they threatened
the president elect, they got on the news and screamed their displeasure. This
could not have happened. Their candidate had lost. HOW? They had never lost. It
wasn’t in their vocabulary. They had never been let down. IT WAS WRONG! And, to
make matters worse, no one in leadership of their party came out and urged
calm, no one in leadership said it would be alright and we will get it next
time, no one in leadership said now we need to support the new president. They
just smiled and said, well, our young people are expressing themselves. Crazy
stuff.
I
know a little guy named Braxton. Braxton. Loves. Baseball. Last year, to young
to play yet, Braxton was the batboy on the Little League team his grandfather
managed and for which his Dad was a coach. He stayed glued to the game. He
hustled and got the bats after the players either got hits or outs. He loved
it. One game Marsha said something to him and he grinned and said, “I’m gonna
play next year!” We had a night where anyone who wanted to go could meet at the
Parkview stadium in Fort Wayne and we would see our minor league team play. We
got the tickets all together and it was fun. Braxton and his Mom and Dad came.
After about the third inning, I got up to do something that I have been doing
for years. I went to the gift shop and bought a baseball for every one of our
kids younger than Youth age. I came back and started handing them out. All the
kids were appreciative, especially since they were not expecting a baseball. When
Braxton got his ball, his reaction was priceless. His eyes got huge. He gripped
the ball in both hands. He was so excited to have that ball. I knew he had
balls at home, but this one was new and white and HE GOT IT AT THE GAME! I
wanted to go back and get another one for him, but Marsha told me ‘no’. That
was fun!
So,
this year comes along. For the real little kids, they start with T-ball. A ball
is set up on a plastic tee that comes up to about chest high on the player, and
they hit the ball off that tee. They learn how to hit and which way to run and
which hand to throw with and which to catch with and where to throw……..it is
just a time to learn. Braxton’s first year was going to be T-ball. Except there
were not enough youngsters to make up teams. The Little League, however, said
that if they want, they came step up to the next older level and play. For
those who were afraid of the little darlings being mentally handicapped by
keeping score and poor performance, this would be appalling. The very idea
would be out of the question and the one in charge of the League should be
dismissed post haste! Fortunately, that is not a problem out here in farm
country. Braxton was going to play in a pitch league. But there was another
problem. Braxton was born with no bone below the knee in one of his legs. That
leg was amputated and he was fitted with a prosthesis. It has to be changed every little while as he grows.
The first time I ever saw him was at a picnic his grandparents had invited us
too. He was about three years old and running around in shorts. I never noticed
anything until he took his leg off to go swimming. He had always had it and had
adapted and was having a ton of fun. But, again, to those afraid of hurting a
child’s psyche, Braxton was too young and physically not able to play and would
likely wind up being bullied. He should not play! Get the child a video game!
For goodness sake, have compassion!
In
a game last week, this kid who is to young to be playing with the kids he is
playing with and who only has one leg and a prosthesis, this kid who
should be sitting at home playing video baseball, went four for four, which
means he had four official at bats and with those at bats he had four hits. He
is a little kid, so he is not an expert fielder, but he got in front of every
ball hit to him and at least knocked it down with his body. For a little kid,
that is rare. Most have some fear of the ball. But, once more, to those afraid
of hurting a child’s psyche, they would say, “Well, what did he learn? His team
won!” No, his team actually lost. And this is what Braxton learned with that
loss. He learned that even though you might excel and do the best you can do,
you can still lose. He learned that when you lose it hurts, but you deal with
it. He learned that you can still have fun when you lose. And, at other times,
he has learned that when you win, it is more fun. Braxton is not handicapped by
his age or his supposed physical limitations. It is who he is and he is living
his life.
Braxton
is the son and grandson and great grandson of farmers. It is in his blood. He
loves horses. He loves baseball. He loves life. He will go in the direction he
will go in. But I seriously doubt that Braxton will ever need a safe place to
rage, I don’t think he will ever take part in a riot, I think that when he gets
mouthy with his folks, he will get his butt popped a little. And, I think that
somewhere twenty years or so down the road somebody who has a safe place in
their parent’s basement will come to Braxton wanting a job.
This
is the important distinction between Braxton and his cousins and friends and
kids in other parts of the country who are rewarded just for breathing air.
Their parents are raising kids. In the end, they have thirty year old kids who
cannot cope with the real world. Braxton’s Mom and Dad, Allison and Travis, are
raising a man. Sure, he is a kid now, but he is on a path. He will get off the
path now and again, but he has good examples of good men all around him.
Braxton will be OK.
And
who knows? Maybe one day he will be playing shortstop for the Cubs. It could
happen. Pete Gray in the 1940s played in the outfield for St. Louis and only
had one arm and Jim Abbott, who only had one hand, pitched for the Angels,
Yankees, White Sox and the Brewers throughout the 1980s and 1990s. He even
pitched a no hitter against Cleveland, which was the only no hitter on the
major league level I have ever seen. But neither of those guys ever went four
for four in a game.
After the last election, I wondered about the
fate of our country. But I have had time to reflect. There are a lot of men and
women being raised right now in this country, and they will run the place one
day. They will be equipped to handle loss and they will be equipped to savor
victory. We are good!
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