Batting practice blues
There are few moments in sports more deceptively treacherous than the ceremonial first pitch at a baseball game. On the surface, it seems like an easy task: walk to the mound, toss a ball toward a catcher, and flash a smile for the crowd. But time and again, celebrities, politicians, and local heroes have turned this simple tradition into a viral moment for all the wrong reasons.
I used to get a kick out of watching the replays and video clips of these erroneous throws, chuckling, and on occasion having a hearty laugh while often wondering, how can they be that bad?
There are many species of bad first pitches: the bouncer that doesn’t make it halfway to home plate, the wild throw that nearly hits a cameraman, the awkward side-arm sling that looks more like a dodgeball move than a baseball toss. For every crisp strike thrown by a former athlete, there are ten cringe worthy clunkers that leave fans laughing—or ducking.
No longer will I make fun of these folks for having the courage to step up and take aim. I don’t have the lived experience of throwing out a first pitch in front of a crowd, but I’ve had plenty of bouncers, balls in the dirt, and over-the-hitter’s-head attempts while throwing batting practice to my son.
I’ve recently found that I am not alone. There is a whole community of dads who feel like throwing good batting practice is comparable to climbing Mount Everest, a monumental task.
I played a lot of baseball as a youngster and had a blast doing so. I wasn’t a pitcher, but I’ve had a lot of practice tossing and catching a baseball. So, why is throwing solidly consistent batting practice so difficult?
Perhaps it’s because kids are small, with a tiny strike zone, making you feel like you have to hit a target the size of a Tupperware container, and when you finally hit the sweet spot, they don’t swing, and the next pitch goes flying overhead to the backstop.
A public field sits a block from my house. My son and I make the trek often so he can get some hitting in. We use a five-gallon bucket full of old baseballs. It usually takes me a couple rounds to settle in and finally be able to deliver at least a few hittable pitches. But often, the poor kid is forced to swing above his head, at balls bouncing in front of home plate, or test his reflexes by dodging the occasional “get out of the way” pitch.
On the positive side, little by little, I’ve started noticing slight improvements. I’ve recently overcome the nagging thought in the back of my mind, just don’t hit him, reminding myself that he’s now old enough to get out of the way, at least when dodging this old-man’s fastball.
Perhaps perception and outlook are the keys. My goals are simple, don’t try to be Nolan Ryan, just get the ball somewhere near the strike zone in a consistent rhythm. Practice makes perfect, right?
I’m sure someday my struggles will be long forgotten, and I will be left with only fond memories of walking to the neighborhood field with my son and playing ball. To all the parents out there trying their best to coach or participate in their child’s athletic endeavors, I applaud your efforts, and someday your kids will remember them too.
