I recall playing sandlot baseball with my siblings, cousins and neighbors. No adults to influence our organization. The great thing was we would always improvise the rules based upon how many participants. If not enough outfielders we would close right field and any hits there would result in an automatic out. If one team was too strong we’d reorganize so both teams were competitive. The point being we would just play and have fun.
I also played little league and up until my freshmen year in high school, so I had a taste of both worlds. Although it was possible to have fun playing organized baseball, it was not truly “play.”
You're so right; I too played Little League but it didn't feel like play at all as it was more like a second job. Only at the park with my friends with no adults around did it feel like play.
Also, if we were playing Wiffleball and didn't have enough players we would have ghost runners long before Manfred codified the concept
We had so many kids wanting to play in our sandlot games in the late '60s and early 70's that often the game had to be "locked". We didn't use a catcher, we had a rule that you could just throw it to home and the runner had to hold at 3rd if the ball was ahead of him. One interesting thing about our field is it was on a corner lot. The "fence" was the sidewalk that was across the street. There was a cul-de-sac in the centerfield. In Left field the sidewalk was straight as it moved toward CF, but in right field it curved back towards the field about 20 feet, creating a very short RF porch. About half the kids in the neighborhood learned to switch hit to help with their summer HR totals (LF was just too far for most of the kids). Most of us continued to switch hit up through little league, pony league, hardball leagues in our early 20's, and then finally in softball as adults. The corner lot is still empty and I drive by it every once in a while just to remember the golden days of our youth.
From fifth grade on in Northern California, I lived just three or four blocks from a big city park where, once school was out in June, many elementary and middle school kids --usually enough for two teams early on -- gathered to play. We typically set up a diamond of our own making with reachable fences. By August, because of low attendance, "the pitcher's mound was as good as first." Some of us also played in the local rec league, which scheduled games on the "little" diamond and big diamond in the afternoons. There were no adult coaches, just rec people who umpired.
Before moving to NoCal, my family lived in Reno. I played at least three years in something, probably Little League minors. I know I played three years because I received three participation "Rs" which I used to show in "show-and-tell" classes in elementary school. All I remember about those times is trying out, not making "minors," and playing at least one t-ball game in which, after teammates explained the concept, I singled up the middle. I remember nothing else about those years. The summer after fourth grade, I played in San Mateo, California. Probably, LL minors. All I remember about that season is getting a beautiful orange t-shirt, being hit in the eye by a fly ball, and being awarded a jacket at season's end.
I don't remember receiving any formal coaching until a summer league town team in sixth or seventh grade. At that time, a very knowledgeable coach tried to show three or four of us how to hit correctly. Unfortunately, I didn't heed his advice. I also don't recall much about that season other than singling again up the middle, using a bat made by a friend in a shop class. That single got me a start in the next game. I struck out three times and that was that.
My dad taught me to hit, catch, play catch, play pepper, and field. But in game strategy came from my high school and JC coaches. And quite frankly, I couldn't get enough.
I coached in a Babe Ruth Baseball League in my hometown and never saw summer sandlot games like we used to do in the mornings after school was out. Most kids then were playing organized sports and didn't bother with the fun stuff.
I now live in a small town with a city park just a few blocks away. I rarely ever see kids playing on their own after school lets out.
I played "organized" sports as a kid, but 90 percent of my baseball time was spent on an empty field or a makeshift diamond in some kid's backyard. In the summer, we’d play in the morning, break for lunch, and then keep going until it got dark. I loved when daylight saving time kicked in—we could squeeze in another game after dinner.
Even organized sports back then, in the 1980s, weren’t much different from how they were in the '70s or '60s. But they were nothing like youth sports today. Kids today are still just kids like we were—the difference is how commercialized everything has become. Too many coaches now are transactional instead of transformational. Back then, they were more often mentors.
I recall playing sandlot baseball with my siblings, cousins and neighbors. No adults to influence our organization. The great thing was we would always improvise the rules based upon how many participants. If not enough outfielders we would close right field and any hits there would result in an automatic out. If one team was too strong we’d reorganize so both teams were competitive. The point being we would just play and have fun.
I also played little league and up until my freshmen year in high school, so I had a taste of both worlds. Although it was possible to have fun playing organized baseball, it was not truly “play.”
Nice post!
You're so right; I too played Little League but it didn't feel like play at all as it was more like a second job. Only at the park with my friends with no adults around did it feel like play.
Also, if we were playing Wiffleball and didn't have enough players we would have ghost runners long before Manfred codified the concept
We had so many kids wanting to play in our sandlot games in the late '60s and early 70's that often the game had to be "locked". We didn't use a catcher, we had a rule that you could just throw it to home and the runner had to hold at 3rd if the ball was ahead of him. One interesting thing about our field is it was on a corner lot. The "fence" was the sidewalk that was across the street. There was a cul-de-sac in the centerfield. In Left field the sidewalk was straight as it moved toward CF, but in right field it curved back towards the field about 20 feet, creating a very short RF porch. About half the kids in the neighborhood learned to switch hit to help with their summer HR totals (LF was just too far for most of the kids). Most of us continued to switch hit up through little league, pony league, hardball leagues in our early 20's, and then finally in softball as adults. The corner lot is still empty and I drive by it every once in a while just to remember the golden days of our youth.
From fifth grade on in Northern California, I lived just three or four blocks from a big city park where, once school was out in June, many elementary and middle school kids --usually enough for two teams early on -- gathered to play. We typically set up a diamond of our own making with reachable fences. By August, because of low attendance, "the pitcher's mound was as good as first." Some of us also played in the local rec league, which scheduled games on the "little" diamond and big diamond in the afternoons. There were no adult coaches, just rec people who umpired.
Before moving to NoCal, my family lived in Reno. I played at least three years in something, probably Little League minors. I know I played three years because I received three participation "Rs" which I used to show in "show-and-tell" classes in elementary school. All I remember about those times is trying out, not making "minors," and playing at least one t-ball game in which, after teammates explained the concept, I singled up the middle. I remember nothing else about those years. The summer after fourth grade, I played in San Mateo, California. Probably, LL minors. All I remember about that season is getting a beautiful orange t-shirt, being hit in the eye by a fly ball, and being awarded a jacket at season's end.
I don't remember receiving any formal coaching until a summer league town team in sixth or seventh grade. At that time, a very knowledgeable coach tried to show three or four of us how to hit correctly. Unfortunately, I didn't heed his advice. I also don't recall much about that season other than singling again up the middle, using a bat made by a friend in a shop class. That single got me a start in the next game. I struck out three times and that was that.
My dad taught me to hit, catch, play catch, play pepper, and field. But in game strategy came from my high school and JC coaches. And quite frankly, I couldn't get enough.
I coached in a Babe Ruth Baseball League in my hometown and never saw summer sandlot games like we used to do in the mornings after school was out. Most kids then were playing organized sports and didn't bother with the fun stuff.
I now live in a small town with a city park just a few blocks away. I rarely ever see kids playing on their own after school lets out.
I played "organized" sports as a kid, but 90 percent of my baseball time was spent on an empty field or a makeshift diamond in some kid's backyard. In the summer, we’d play in the morning, break for lunch, and then keep going until it got dark. I loved when daylight saving time kicked in—we could squeeze in another game after dinner.
Even organized sports back then, in the 1980s, weren’t much different from how they were in the '70s or '60s. But they were nothing like youth sports today. Kids today are still just kids like we were—the difference is how commercialized everything has become. Too many coaches now are transactional instead of transformational. Back then, they were more often mentors.
I definitely played pickup hoops and street hockey growing up, but in my case baseball seemed to require too many players for informal participation.