Westfield’s Nate Bonini foreground, claims the winning run as Trumbull pitcher Tyler Zikias, background, falls to the ground after giving up the winning hit. (Photo by Frederick Gore)
WESTFIELD – The high coming off a massive championship victory still lingers the day afterwards. A thrilling match between a pair of teams both trying to earn a trip to the World Series in Florida. Back and forth, one team jumps out to an early lead and stays the course up until the visitors use some of the six home errors to tie the game. The bullpens come up with stop after stop. The almost sold-out crowd erupts throughout the game, chanting and attempting to urge the home team to a walk-off victory.
In the final inning before the scoreboard erases the memory of all that had happened, a bases-loaded single dribbled up the middle, sparking chaotic pandemonium and joyful raucousness around the city field. There is joy in Mudville, The hometown boys are going to Disney World….ish….like an hour north. Whatever.
I’ve mentioned before how this summer has been one filled with more Babe Ruth baseball, more 14-year-olds and more 14-year-old Babe Ruth baseball than any summer previously, by quite a long shot. By the time I was 14, our family was heavily involved in the prep school world, and therefore not so much in the city youth sports world. It’s a fascinating world, youth sports. Observing the operations behind a successful and well-done program makes it that much easier to scream in excitement when you’re off-duty and witness this squad of young men celebrate their success over the rest of the region.
It’s like an organized operation: each member, each person with their role or responsibility. Some men tend to the field, making sure that the stage is set for showtime, avoiding to let hurdles such as gloomy storm clouds or countless consecutive performances damage the fine quality. Some women man the concession stand, preparing all the grub that fuels kids of all ages during such a showtime. Burgers and meatball subs and candy and energy drinks aplenty—with a great view out both windows. Some man the press box, the music, the souvenir tent, the photography, the coaching. All one unit working as one fluid unit.
And the kids, of course, are the main event. Living out a dream of being an all-star, representing their city (and now their region), but mostly having fun and being the goofy, nutty 14-year-olds they really are. The kids are the true main act. There’s no ill-will for every missed call or every time their child doesn’t get a chance to play every game. No parent living vicariously through their child. No kid really taking it uber seriously. Competitive, yes. Very competitive..but not to the point of having it take over their lives. As soon as the final out is recorded, the kids just go back to being kids, pretending to toss the ball off the mound or chasing younger siblings around the infield dirt or even chatting with their supportive friends in the stands.
Just kids playing the game they love and their family aiding to help make the process that much smoother. That simple. That effective.
