The Day of the Holy Gathering
03/26/03
We had our fingers crossed, especially when a few clouds were spotted moving in our direction Friday last. Unlike last year, however, this particular Saturday dawned bright and sunny. Not a hint of rain, no chill in the air, and a light warm breeze. Opening Day for El Dorado Hill's baseball had finally arrived.
For those few who have not yet been fully initiated into this annual EDH ritual, no one throws out a pitch on Opening Day here in the foothills. Perhaps, then, a better appellation for this event is The Day of the Holy Gathering. It kicked off bright and early in the morning at Silva Valley School, and the logistics behind it are indeed no mean feat.
By 8:00 a.m. on March 22, 900 kids and about 2,000 parents and miscellaneous non-players were milling about in search of a number written in chalk on the pavement in the shallow cul-de-sac behind the school. This marked the day's assembly and jump-off point for each team. Once my Coast League Texas Rangers were fully assembled, we had 45 minutes to kill before the always enjoyable team-by-team parade, rally, and photograph session. Part of my job as coach is to keep my thirteen 7-year-old players from straying too far so they are ready to go when the whistle blows. Keeping rambunctious little boys together, however, is a lot like herding cats. It was l-o-n-g three-quarters of an hour.
Once the organizers were ready, each team, accompanied by its banner and coaches, walked a prepared route teeming with parents and bystanders. Bracketed by a sea of waving hands and smiling faces, the hundreds of players formed a single twisting colorful tapestry that wound its way through a cacophonous mixture of cheers and applause. Most of the kids love the attention, though a few were sporting beet red cheeks by the end of the procession.
Cobbled onto the end of the parade (after another unavoidable hurry-up-and wait herding session) was an inspirational pep rally. This year was especially moving, thanks to a few simple comments by one of the event organizers who asked that we all think about and remember our young men and women fighting and dying in the Middle East. The applause, universal and heartfelt, was followed by fifteen seconds of palpable silence. I looked out over a sea of hatless young boys and girls, and could not help but wonder whether their fate would one day call them to a distant land for a similar purpose. I am also not ashamed to say I wiped my eyes when the Star Spangled Banner erupted from the speakers. (‘Thank you for vigorously defending our freedoms,' I thought. ‘Do you duty and come home safely.')
Once discharged from their seats, the kids made a mad dash to gobble down corn dogs and pizza, slurp soda and slushes, and pick their parents' pockets for money to jump inside rubber bounce houses, tumble down slides, and scale rock climbing walls. But it was all for a good cause. The food and activities were the result of efforts by parents and business owners. These unsung community leaders labored long and hard to provide a wide variety of fund-raising activities to help the league raise badly-needed revenue. Thank you, organizers, for giving so much of your time and energy.
At 11:00 a.m., the sugared-up Rangers assembled for individual and team pictures (i.e., yet another cat-herding session). Each player gets an opportunity to hold a bat, smile for the camera, and look like a slugger with a .415 batting average. A team photo, complete with banner and smiling coaches, capped the scheduled events.
Coach little league is one of the great little pleasures of life. I get to play teacher, athlete (I can hear my wife laughing), mentor, drill sergeant, and dad (my son is on my team). Remarkably, unlike at home, most of the kids actually listen and follow instructions when they find themselves in a uniform and are expected to learn how to work together as a team. Several players have been with me for three years. Watching them develop their game and mature and grow as individuals is deeply gratifying.
The promise of a new season is once again upon us.
