I was mandated to attend a clinic for t-ball coaches this morning and was relieved to discover there that when trying to teach the game to a band of attention-hungry five-year-olds, it’s actually quite simple to confuse them into state of stuporous lunacy or, if you catch them before naptime, full-blown mania. Suh-weet!

Given that most of our practices will occur in the late afternoon, I figure I’ll be catching the children at the time of day when their blood sugar is at its absolute lowest. My optimistic side wants to believe that this will make them act like Stepford Kids, too malnourished to give me any shit and therefore willing to do whatever I say. When I say, “Joey, go play second base,” Joey will sprint spiritedly to a position precisely 12 steps right and five steps back from the second base bag. He will then smile, pound a fist into his mitt and shout, “Ready, coach! And by the way, your instruction has been top-notch today! Top-notch indeed!”

This, of course, is utter fantasy.

The far more likely scenario is that the Yankees will be so hopped-up on fruit roll-ups and juice boxes that we’ll never actually get to any baseball-specific instruction. I fear I will be more of a babysitter than a coach. In fact, I had a nightmare last night that I was running around to all of the players shouting out orders like Mary Fucking Poppins, British accent and all. “Close your mouth please, Michael. We are not a codfish.”

When you’re five, the game can be confusing and odd. Even a child knows that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Why then, if he is told to run to third base, must he take the longest possible route: to first, then to second and THEN to third? I suppose it’s not entirely unlike explaining to a five-year-old why he must wear underpants. No one else can see them and they still get wet if you pee your pants, so why bother wearing them at all?

Truth is, I don’t really know the answer. But when you’re the coach, just like when you’re the parent, you must be prepared for the question nonetheless.

“I have no idea why you have to wear underpants, boys. And I have no idea why you have to go to first AND second before you can go to third. But those are the rules, and when rules are broken, people die. So I suggest you follow them.”

***

I want to thank you guys for the hand you played in this. I'm genuinely flabbergasted by the voting turnout and, in case I haven't told you lately, the fact that you visit here every day and leave such wonderfully affirming comments touches me deeply. In fact, it touches me in that special place where I usually only get touched by myself.

Comments

Puh-lease! Am I just here for looks?

I don't always leave comments, but I do read your blog.
Our 'relationship' goes all the way back to the Dooce comments.

Congrats...you deserve it!

Yay!! I've got the Fever! Congrats and good luck!

Conrats on the win; you rock!

underpants... yeah, why?!

Well done dude - not one vote was undeserved.

Your blog posts ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous, but never, ever fail to brighten my day each day! Totally addicted to reading about your adorable family. Glad you won the award, and just to let you know I'm from faraway Singapore, and that you have plenty of fans here!

Glad you won! When I saw you were in the running I gave you my vote!

Congrats!

First comment but just wanted to say I stumbled across your blog and in my madness of a world of having 3 kids 3 and under it makes for alot of laughs! Thanks! Congrats!

I had no doubts you would win.

By the way, I love that you quoted Mary Poppins.

Congrats! I knew you would win!

Congratulations!

And dude, they're five. Of COURSE you'll be doing more babysitting than coaching. It'll be great, I'm sure.

Congratulations!!!! Your blog deserves this and I can't wait to hear more and more about the T-Ball coaching!

*clap clap clap*
Did you win a prize? Or just notoriety?

As I have recently explained to my four year old who just started preschool (and never wore underwear before), "it's just what big boys do."

The real answer: So your teacher doesn't get a shot of your balls during story time on the rug.

Congrats, DGM. You deserve every vote you got!

You deserve the win!!
You always crack me up!

Congrats....you always succeed in making me spit, whatever it is I'm drinking at the moment, out my nose!

Hey Danny... totally awesome that you won! I don't know how you continue to write this blog & keep it interesting everyday.

For all you readers who love Danny's writing... he does do freelance & he can write about serious topics & he's excellent & you should hire him... and I'm not just saying that because he's my brother-in-law. He is the best!

Congrats on the BOB award, and good luck with the coaching. I hope you catch them on the downward slope of the sugar high.

That's why soccor is a much better sport for kids this age. If they can't kick the ball, they can kick each other.

You won't be a babysitter to the 5-year-old players -- you'll be a babysitter to their PARENTS!

Heh. You will definitely be a babysitter. While you are trying to coach a game, those that are not on the field will be doing everything but paying attention to the game. Climbing chain link fences, playing in water & mud, etc. while the parents in the stands are laughing and shaking their heads and saying, "Sucker". But hey, more blog fodder for you and funny reading for us! Batter up!

we want a pitcher! not a belly itcher! we want a...

what rhymes with "mitt boner"?
You're going to have to create a postition, just for the cheer.
Does miss BBF have any pom-poms?

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congrats on your recognition. You rock! I love you.

Wondersis, how about "We want a homer not a mitt boner!"? But there are no cheerleaders in baseball.

instead of telling them that people die, tell them that a puppy gets hit by a car. that usually gets their attention.

ishouldbeworking must have or had a child in T-ball. My son caught more bugs than grounders. Actually, he didn't catch any grounders.
And our ball field was under the flight pattern of the local Air Force base. How can you expect a bunch of flitting five-year-olds to NOT look up at the jets?!

Cool!

ha! i think you should do the entire season as mary poppins!

at least you probably won't be asked to coach AGAIN...

Our T-ball field was adjacent to a train track. Every night, the 6:17 went by on its slow-moving, whistle-blowing way to Utica, delivering godknows what to Utica, and diverting 22 small children from exploring the depths of their nostrils for two minutes.

I read your blog often and rarely, and I mean rarely post. Your stories are always entertaining.

Congrats on the "W."

Keep it up!

Congrats on the BoB Award.

From experience, let me remind you to be sure and tell the kids that
1) when you tell them to "run home" you mean "to 4th base," not to the house where they live.

2. Stealing a base does not man you pick up the base and run way out field with it so the runner has no hope of touching it on a traditional trajectory around the bases.

Good luck.

"There's no crying in baseball."

Nice work on the B to the oB's.

Congratulations DGM you're the best!