Between the Lines: A Father, A Son, and America's Pastime

The Little League field has real dugouts. They’re dark green and you can’t see inside unless you’re old enough to be on a team and go in there, then only during games. When you step inside you have to walk down three steps because it’s a “dugout” and that’s the way the pros’ dugouts are. It’s always wet down there, but if you’re a benchwarmer and you get there first, you can sit on the brick wall in front by the fence that keeps foul balls from hitting us. I always sit farthest away from the door because the coach sits by the door and you can’t goof off if you sit near him. If he sees you, he might put you in to bat, or ask you questions about the game, so you have to watch.

Sometimes, when the big guys strike out, they come in and throw their helmet and bat. If you’re too close you can get hit. Then they come down to our end and cry. You have to act like you’re not looking, because they think nobody sees them. Me and Tom always get in the dugout first and get the good seats at the other end…and goof off.

The two square holes in the back of the dugout are supposed to let air in, but they don’t work very well because it gets really hot. Probably they just ran out of concrete blocks.

Randy’s mom passes drinks through the holes because he sweats a lot and she doesn’t want him to drink out of the water fountain. Glenn’s mom gives him candy that way because he’s fat and needs it. Sometimes the rough kids throw water and trash through the holes and take off running.

The builders put bars in the dugout holes to keep the little kids from climbing in. Once Ed’s little sister tried anyway, and got her head stuck. We had to stop the game until they squeezed her head out of that hole because she was crying so loud. Then they gave her a free Double Cola and she’s not even a real baseball player.

One row of concrete blocks at the top were installed sideways to let light in. If you stand on a helmet, you can look through them and check if your mom is sitting in the bleachers. My mom always is. Matt never checks because he lives with his grandma and she’s too old to come to the games.

The water fountains usually don’t work. When they do, the water flows out so slowly that you have to stick your face way down to get a drink. It’s dirty and it stinks. It’s probably connected to the toilet, so we don’t drink from it. Coach says that’s silly, but then how come the water stops every time somebody flushes the toilet? If you’re the catcher and you sweat a lot because of the equipment, sometimes you have to drink it. My dad always told my brother not to worry about the dirt…baseball players go ahead and drink it if they need to. I’m glad I don’t need to yet.

Everybody goes through the hole in the fence at our end of the dugout to get in and out on rainy days when there’s a big puddle at the other end. One time after we took infield, I threw the ball toward the dugout because they were getting ready to play the national anthem. That hole is only about a foot wide, but from center field I threw it right threw the hole − in air. The coach sat was sitting at our end making the lineup so nobody could see who would be starting. The ball bounced on the bench right next to him. It hit the back wall, and then knocked some helmets off the bat rack. It scared him and made him mess up the score book. He yelled, “That ain’t funny!” I had to put my glove over my face and act like I was rubbing in some spit because I couldn’t stop laughing.

After taking infield, I hustled in and grabbed the best seat. Next year I’ll be one of the big guys and I’ll play in the field when the other team bats. Then the new kids will sit on the brick wall, at the other end, by the hole in the fence, where the coach can’t see them….and goof off.