While learning of the frequent debate over the use of a Reduced Impact Factor (RIF) baseball and hardball in the Oak Park Youth Baseball/Softball (OPYB/S) organization, something occurred in my backyard that helped sway my opinion.
But before I relive that horrific moment of pain and agony, I want to briefly go over the issue. The R-ball is softer than a hardball, and OPYB/S uses the ball in a T-ball league. Parents also have the option of having their kids play in a hardball T-ball league. The numbers for the R-ball T-ball league are down to 15 teams this season, while the hardball league has surged to 24 teams. Another league, the Mustang R-ball league for 8- to 10-year-olds, was recently absorbed into the regular Mustang league due to a shortage of teams (see story to the left).
My kids will someday enter into the mildly frustrating yet often hilarious territory of T-ball. And I know one thing, if R-ball T-ball has been rendered obsolete because of our competition-driven society, then I’ll be forming my own T-ball league in the friendly confines of my tiny backyard. Some of you will cry, but no one will be bankrupting the tooth fairy.
I’ve seen my kids throw a ball, and your best bet is to stand behind them, and that’s not even a guaranteed risk-free zone.
It’s simple; the R-ball is softer, and as much as you might think he is, your kid ain’t Alex Rodriguez. He’ll have plenty of time to develop his skills with a hardball.
I’m not advocating the 8- through 10-year-old groups should be playing with an R-ball. At that age, I think kids have the coordination to catch and throw respectably. And if two competitive leagues can be formed, then everyone’s happy.
But at the T-ball level-where one kid is acting out a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean, another is daydreaming about goblets of fire, another has his finger up his nose, and another is trying to dissect a worm he found in right field-using a ball that may prevent serious injury is common sense. We don’t let our little T-ballers throw rocks. Why would we want them tossing around a hardball?
Here’s how I came to this conclusion. Backyard, sun, smiles; everybody’s having a good time. And then …
“OK, choke up a little, put your arms back, bend your knees, and remember to keep your eyes on the ball. Ready, kid?”
SMACK!
“Ffffff …. Fiddlesticks!
“Why, child, you ask is Daddy lying in the grass in a fetal position, holding himself and moaning while his face turns purple? That’s because you just hit a streaking line drive into my midsection. Now, give me a minute while I locate the two things that helped make you possible. One, two everything’s blue. Tell you what, Dad’s gonna get some ice.”
“ICE CREAM!” The shrieks of happiness dull the pain … a little.
It’s important to note that I was hit with neither a hardball nor an R-ball, but a wiffle ball.
Thankfully.
Contact: bspencer@wjinc.com
