GAIL WHITE Just when you thinks it's hopeless, they surprise you

It had been a few years since my husband, Pat, had coached my oldest son's baseball team. He has spent the last couple of years coaching our younger children's teams.
This year was Robert's last year of youth baseball. Pat had coached during Robert's first year of baseball when he was 7. He wanted to be there for his last at 14.
He had talked with the managers who had recently coached these boys; heard the rumors of how they had "changed." None of this disturbed Pat. He approached the season with the same enthusiasm and commitment as he has every year.
After the first practice, his enthusiasm turned to befuddlement and his commitment had him ready to be committed.
"They don't listen," he came home complaining.
After eight years of coaching, Pat is used to children not listening. Their focus is short and their minds wander.
This was different. These boys weren't listening because they simply didn't feel like it.
The old, new solutions
In past years, to help with the listening problem, Pat would pull a child aside, sit down in a chair so he was level with the child's face, have the child look him in the eyes and talk one on one.
With 14-year-olds, he looks the boys in the eyes by standing on the chair and has found one-on-one talks would be better spent talking to a brick wall.
To enhance listening qualities this year, Pat initiated laps.
If a player doesn't listen to instruction, he takes a lap.
If a player doesn't listen to instruction fast enough, he takes a lap.
If a player throws a helmet, slams a bat, doesn't hustle, talks back or just generally breathes too heavily, he takes a lap.
There have been practices where balls have gone unfielded because the majority of the team was taking a lap. On especially trying days, they have had team laps around the perimeter of the field.
Pat realizes the concept is a Catch-22 of sorts. The laps are an effective punishment. The punishment makes them too tired to play. (Or at least that's what the players say, and they put on a pretty good show to prove it.)
"It also makes them too tired to get in trouble," he concedes.
Misbehavior
Trouble is another issue Pat must deal with.
With small children, trouble consists of pushing one another on the bench in the dugout and figuring out whose water bottle is whose.
With 13- and 14-year-olds, trouble starts with squirting water bottles at one another and wrestling in the dugout over the last piece of gum.
Mothers used to sit in the dugout when the boys were little to make sure things ran smoothly. No mother will go near the dugout now.
Stupidity is another problem.
Once, Pat was talking with a coach from another team, discussing whether the field was too wet to play on. His team was supposed to be throwing balls to one another, warming up.
Instead, they all decided to warm up with the portable restroom. A sudden barrage of loud banging stopped Pat's conversation. He looked over to find his team throwing rocks at the bathroom.
He herded them into the dugout, told them how ashamed he was of their behavior, and marched them all to the dirt pile (actually saying, "Hup, two, three, four ...") where they were instructed to shovel dirt to cover the wet spots in the field.
Another problem
Girls have become another problem.
Cute and all smiles, they show up at games to cheer on the boys. They certainly provide great moral support, but they cause an overload of emotion for these already emotionally overloaded boys.
The players become completely distracted by the mere presence of the opposite sex. They get up to bat and swing for the stars. It is a case study in testosterone gone amok.
Every young man on Pat's team has played baseball for years.
Yet, there are days when those boys walk out onto that diamond and it would seem that they have never played this game before in their lives.
Balls are dropped, grounders are missed, easy plays are fumbled.
Parents sit in the stands and shakes their heads in disbelief. Pat and the other coaches do the same.
"They have forgotten all the fundamentals," he laments.
'A thing of beauty'
One game, a few nights ago, coaches and spectators witnessed a crowning point of the season.
It was late in a close-scoring game. The runner on first was set to steal.
The pitcher threw the first baseman the ball. The runner ran. The first baseman threw to second. The runner was stuck.
For a solid minute, this team tossed the ball back and forth. Infielders rotated to cover the bags while outfielders ran in to back up.
"It was textbook perfect," my husband beamed. "A thing of beauty."
That one play made coaching these 13- and 14-year-olds -- with all their attitudes, troubles and stupidity -- worthwhile.
And it made the coach wonder if maybe this team has been listening after all.
gwhite@vindy.com