My ten year old son Ryan and I slouched on the wooden bench in the
over-stimulating pizza place. He ran out of quarters and I wished I had time to change
out of my work clothes and into my sweats. Alas, Little League season has landed.
“…and most of all, we want the boys to have fun!” my son’s little league coach said to
conclude this inescapable ‘meet the parents pizza party.’ This was after declaring, “there
is no crying in baseball…the boys will run the entire time on the field…and they must
strive to improve in every aspect of their game each day.” Is this before, during or after
‘the fun’ I wondered. Ryan’s face reflected the same sentiment, ‘what’s so fun about all
that?’

Of course I want my son to have ‘fun’, but ‘fun’ is not the primary reason I signed
him up. Pounding birthday cake, screaming on rides at Disneyland, and tearing open
presents on Christmas morning—now that’s fun. Can we pretend fielding 900 ground
balls on a lumpy little league outfield is equally fun? Little league, and any youth sports
program for that matter, primarily involves work. Difficult, boring, frustrating, painful
and relentless work. Ask any ten year old, and he’ll tell you—that’s not fun. Until he
sees that work pay off, he misses the sport’s gift of pure bliss.

Dedication, respect, teamwork, loyalty, and perseverance—sports will teach my
son these lessons. These lessons will build character, enhance schoolwork, and
contribute to lifelong goals. He will learn time management and self-discipline as two

invaluable skills acquired not by my long-winded lectures, but by the necessity of daily
survival. Lessons reinforced by coaches correcting mistakes through instruction rather
than merely punishing them. Coaches showing players hard work achieves goals and
through these accomplishments one will experience a more meaningful ‘fun’. In the
heart of the season, the fun begins.

Ryan catches the fly ball because his coach taught him how, instead of saying
‘good try’ when he dropped it. He took 400 swings at the batting cages every Tuesday
night so he could watch his line drive sail over the second baseman’s head. Rounding
third base to the cheers of supportive parents and teammates instills a sense of authentic
pride that brings more into his life than mere fun. Ryan enjoys the accomplishment he
knows he has earned, earned through his hard work.

A sunny day building sandcastles and catching waves is fun. Standing in the
outfield on a cold, drizzly Thursday night is not. Still, a child’s life needs both. Let’s not
pretend they are equally fun, but understand they are equally valuable.

Play ball!!