Jill's Journal: Real-life ‘bobble heads’ are sure to put a smile on your face

I love taking pictures of T-ball and coach pitch games at Aspen Park.

I don’t care who you are, if you’ve had a bad day, I’m here to tell you, this level of summertime ball is guaranteed to put a smile on your face.

Last week, I penciled a couple of these games into my early evening Wednesday schedule. And although I wasn’t having a bad day, I couldn’t help myself from smiling as my trusty ol’ Nikon and I went to work .

For starters, the batting helmets these pint-sized players are required to wear when they’re at the plate and running the bases are sure to turn the frown of the grumpiest of grumps upside down.

The helmets never seem to fit quite right. They slide over one eye, tilt backward, spin sideways and occasionally look like they’re about to swallow the entire child. More than once, I watched a youngster running the bases while trying to hold onto a helmet that’s bouncing around like a dashboard bobblehead.

And no matter if they’re in the field or in the batting lineup, when Mother Nature calls, these miniature-sized athletes simply make a beeline for the nearby restroom.

No timeouts. No player substitutions. No concern whatsoever about the count or the score. When nature calls, they go.

At this level of the game, the infield is well-covered by the opposing team’s defense. They line up like a picket fence, stretched from first base to third. And when the bat connects with the ball, like feral cats fighting over a pile of bread crumbs, they all make a mad dash for the it.

Most often, one kid gets a grasp on the ball, but there are times when it rolls right through the defensive barrier the wall of kids create.

And as expected, there’s always one youngster who is busy drawing pictures in the dirt with a cleat, examining a particularly interesting dandelion or gazing into the clouds while the action unfolds 20 feet away.

I love the fact that every inning, every kid on the roster bats. And runs the bases, too, even as the opposing team is heading back to its dugout for its entire roster to step up to the plate for a swing or two or three or four. You get the picture.

The coaches – most often, their parents – deserve a special shoutout, too.

They’re pitching, catching, giving batting lessons, offering encouragement, tying shoes, retrieving helmets, directing traffic on the bases and occasionally performing interpretive dance moves from the coach’s box trying to convince a runner to head toward second instead of wandering toward the outfield.

And then there are the parents.

No fans cheer harder than T-ball and coach pitch parents. Every hit is celebrated like a walk-off homer in the seventh game of the World Series. Every run scored is a big deal. And every player has a personal cheering section that believes they’re watching the next baseball superstar.

Tears. Yes, there are some of those, too. Last week, I watched a patient dad do his best to encourage his son to dry his eyes and get back in the game. I had to giggle to myself, as that famed line from A League of Their Own came to mind: “There’s no crying in baseball.”

Well, yes, there is, especially when you’re 5 years old and all is not right in the world at that moment.

These pint-sized players today are tomorrow’s home run hitters and possibly our future state champions. And truth be told, any parent whose kid has gone through the ranks will tell you how fast the years went from T-ball to the varsity team. One minute you’re watching a helmet-covered bobblehead chase a butterfly in right field, and the next you’re sitting in the bleachers wondering how that same kid is old enough to drive to practice.

That’s why these evenings at Aspen Park on Fields I and H are so special. And oh, so smile-worthy.

The scores won’t be remembered. The standings don’t matter. But the smiles, the laughter, the enthusiasm, the oversized helmets and the pure joy of kids learning the game, those are memories that last a lifetime, and can surely turn a bad day into a good night.