Forever A Boy Of Summer: Memories Of Little League

When I was young I played a lot of baseball and made a lot of memories. There were some awesome times when I played on winning teams, and tough times after tough losses. But through it all there are some memories that will always stand as highlights in my minds’ eye.

The Bat: When I was 13 or 14 I was playing ball in Welcome, Ontario with a great team. A team that (in our little house league) won back-to-back championships and went undefeated in league play for almost 2 full seasons.

At that time I was using a wooden bat in my games, just like the pros do. I loved it. I was a clear minority as most kids were swinging aluminium bats that made the ball fly even when they didn’t get it squared up on the sweet spot. I loved the feel of wood though: The sound that the ball made on contact, the weight in my hands, the feel that I was doing things the same way as Joe Carter and Ken Griffey Jr.

And then the bat broke. Well cracked, and at a practice one night in the middle of the season my coach heard it while I was taking batting practice and he told me that I couldn’t use it. I was devastated. I would have to use an aluminium bat like everyone else for the rest of the year.

Then the memory happened. On the day of our end of season tournament we were getting ready for the first game of the day and I watched my dad’s car pull into the park and head for the far lot. And when he got out of the car and started walking towards the diamond my eyes lit up and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He was carrying a brand new wooden bat. A Rawlings Adirondack with the hande wrapped in white tape.

It made my day. I don’t remember much about that tournament or the games or how it all went down (we won) but I do remember that bat. And to this day it is one of my favourite memories that I can share with my dad.

Note: That season one of our coaches’ wives kept stats since she was at all of our games. I don’t remember my pitching numbers. But I do remember these numbers: BA .600, K 6, HR 16. Not a bad year.

The Called Shot: It’s not what you think. I have never called my own home run in a game of baseball. However, one night, the season before the broken bat, we were playing in Kendal, Ontario. In that league we played with a “last batter” rule in order to keep single inning scores down and prevent things from getting too lopsided.

At one point I came up as the last batter with the bases loaded and the catcher of the Kendal team looked at me and said something along the lines of “oh no, here comes a homer”. It was awesome and flattering to hear. It also put some pressure on.

He was right though. I hit a ball into the outfield on a hard line and ran like hell. I touched home plate safely and made the catcher’s prediction come true.

Note: My mom was the score keeper for those teams and she told us years later that she used to go over to the other team’s bench to get their line-up before the game and beg them to beat us. I guess we were getting pretty cocky in that whole undefeated thing.

The Game: One night with that awesome team in Welcome I was playing on the back diamond against a team from Port Hope, Ontario. My grand-parents had come to watch which wasn’t the norm – but was pretty cool.

In my first at-bat I came up and hit a line drive through the middle into left-centre field. I got to 1st base and the coach told me to go for it. So I did. And as I made my run a dude I knew named Brent made a killer throw and had me out by a step at 2nd base. I wasn’t impressed. I hated getting out. And it wasn’t a great way to start a game at the plate.

However, things were going to look up. In my second at-bat I hit a ball that nobody could get in front of and rounded the bases for a home run little league styles since we didn’t have a fence. I did the same thing in my 3rd at-bat.

And when I came up in my 4th and last at-bat of the game I took a huge hack and rounded the bases again. It was a lot closer at the plate on the last one, but I got it. And I was over the moon. 3 home runs in one game.

After the game my grandpa made fun of me and told me that I missed 3rd base when I was running out my last home run. I don’t know if he was right or just joking… but it’s a little too late to call for an appeal now.

4 at-bats. 1 single. 3 home runs. 13 total bases.

I love baseball. It was my first love. And I hope that no matter how old I get I will always remember them and the many others that I’ve made.

I’m a lucky guy.

creator of content, manager of community, writer, tweeter, coffee drinker. sports, comics, movies, food, music & pop culture geek. Proud MoBro.

One comment on Forever A Boy Of Summer: Memories Of Little League

  1. truongduchuu says:

    I also loves wood baseball bats, I used to play with wood bat during my school days.

Comments are closed.

Forever A Boy Of Summer: Memories Of Little League

When I was young I played a lot of baseball and made a lot of memories. There were some awesome times when I played on winning teams, and tough times after tough losses. But through it all there are some memories that will always stand as highlights in my minds’ eye.

The Bat: When I was 13 or 14 I was playing ball in Welcome, Ontario with a great team. A team that (in our little house league) won back-to-back championships and went undefeated in league play for almost 2 full seasons.

At that time I was using a wooden bat in my games, just like the pros do. I loved it. I was a clear minority as most kids were swinging aluminium bats that made the ball fly even when they didn’t get it squared up on the sweet spot. I loved the feel of wood though: The sound that the ball made on contact, the weight in my hands, the feel that I was doing things the same way as Joe Carter and Ken Griffey Jr.

And then the bat broke. Well cracked, and at a practice one night in the middle of the season my coach heard it while I was taking batting practice and he told me that I couldn’t use it. I was devastated. I would have to use an aluminium bat like everyone else for the rest of the year.

Then the memory happened. On the day of our end of season tournament we were getting ready for the first game of the day and I watched my dad’s car pull into the park and head for the far lot. And when he got out of the car and started walking towards the diamond my eyes lit up and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He was carrying a brand new wooden bat. A Rawlings Adirondack with the hande wrapped in white tape.

It made my day. I don’t remember much about that tournament or the games or how it all went down (we won) but I do remember that bat. And to this day it is one of my favourite memories that I can share with my dad.

Note: That season one of our coaches’ wives kept stats since she was at all of our games. I don’t remember my pitching numbers. But I do remember these numbers: BA .600, K 6, HR 16. Not a bad year.

The Called Shot: It’s not what you think. I have never called my own home run in a game of baseball. However, one night, the season before the broken bat, we were playing in Kendal, Ontario. In that league we played with a “last batter” rule in order to keep single inning scores down and prevent things from getting too lopsided.

At one point I came up as the last batter with the bases loaded and the catcher of the Kendal team looked at me and said something along the lines of “oh no, here comes a homer”. It was awesome and flattering to hear. It also put some pressure on.

He was right though. I hit a ball into the outfield on a hard line and ran like hell. I touched home plate safely and made the catcher’s prediction come true.

Note: My mom was the score keeper for those teams and she told us years later that she used to go over to the other team’s bench to get their line-up before the game and beg them to beat us. I guess we were getting pretty cocky in that whole undefeated thing.

The Game: One night with that awesome team in Welcome I was playing on the back diamond against a team from Port Hope, Ontario. My grand-parents had come to watch which wasn’t the norm – but was pretty cool.

In my first at-bat I came up and hit a line drive through the middle into left-centre field. I got to 1st base and the coach told me to go for it. So I did. And as I made my run a dude I knew named Brent made a killer throw and had me out by a step at 2nd base. I wasn’t impressed. I hated getting out. And it wasn’t a great way to start a game at the plate.

However, things were going to look up. In my second at-bat I hit a ball that nobody could get in front of and rounded the bases for a home run little league styles since we didn’t have a fence. I did the same thing in my 3rd at-bat.

And when I came up in my 4th and last at-bat of the game I took a huge hack and rounded the bases again. It was a lot closer at the plate on the last one, but I got it. And I was over the moon. 3 home runs in one game.

After the game my grandpa made fun of me and told me that I missed 3rd base when I was running out my last home run. I don’t know if he was right or just joking… but it’s a little too late to call for an appeal now.

4 at-bats. 1 single. 3 home runs. 13 total bases.

I love baseball. It was my first love. And I hope that no matter how old I get I will always remember them and the many others that I’ve made.

I’m a lucky guy.

Scroll to top