July 30, 2009

sports

It went that-a-way Perry League t-ball outfielders spend a lot of time looking up in baffled wonderment, as illustrated by the unidentified but extremely cute little boy above. Perry League continues this Friday from 6:30 to 8 p.m. at the Gaunt Park baseball fields.

Angels in the (t-ball) outfield

By Jimmy Chesire

On the small diamond where the 2–5 year olds cavort, we have but a small handful of children willing to play in the field. Cheyan (pronounced like the city, Cheyenne) Sundell-Turner, 4, and her baby brother, Jia (j-eye-uh), who is not quite 2, are our mainstays.

They stand near, in front of, and next to their father, TJ. Cheyan is out there all evening, staying on the field for a good hour, scooping up — and now this is an attempt at an accurate estimate, not my usual hyperbolic super-exaggeration-in-hopes-of-approximating-the-incredible zeal of these children — she scoops up about 80 ground balls. Eighty. Honest. She races after each ball, sometimes racing against another child who wants the same ball. Most of the time she gets there first, snatches it up, turns and throws it back to me at home plate, and then returns to her father — who cheers her on, encouraging her before, during and after every single one of those 80 ground balls.

Part of the evening Mina Brown is in the field with Cheyan and Jia. Mina’s almost 3 and is absolutely adorable. She has her brilliant eye-popping tie-dyed Perry League t-shirt tucked in, which almost no one does; it gives her a fashionable, “put-together” look. And her hair is a bit glamorous, too, in a quasi-French braid-like, pigtails-out-of-each-side-of-her head hairstyle. She rumbles, toddling from side to side, as she goes after the ball. When she picks one up, she completely ignores her mom and dad’s entreaties to “Throw the ball! Throw the ball! Throw the ball!”

Instead, oblivious in that captivating way toddlers have, she bobbles over to the third baseline, apparently heading off the field, that ball securely in tow.

“Mina! Mina! Up here!” I call and point to the black rubber t next to me, that t as tall as she is. Her eyes pop when she spies the t. It appears to be as compelling to her as that beautiful baseball she has clutched to her breast.

“Put it on the t,” I suggest once I see how excited she is by the t. She totters up to the t and sets the ball on it. It is what she’ll do all evening. She will never throw the ball. After all, what person in their right mind would want to throw the ball away? It would be a little like throwing away a pile of gold, a cool million.

Most of the smaller children only want to bat tonight. “I need fielders,” I say. None of the 10–12 kids on or around the bench move. I direct them: “You four,” I say indicating the last four children sitting on the bench, “you be my fielders. You come out into the field with me, okay?”

They look up at me as if I were a blank movie screen. Behind me the field is empty. Cheyan, Jia and TT, their dad, aren’t on the field yet. Nor is the beautiful Mina Brown.

“You four,” I repeat, leaning in, begging with my body. They do not budge.

“You want to bat?” I say, stating the obvious, being as dumb as adults can so often be when dealing with small children. They all four nod their heads.

“Okay,” I say, giving up, “we’ll bat without any fielders.” I am talking to myself now. “We’ll see how that works.”

And like so many things in t-ball, it does, it works. By the time I get the first child to the plate, Cheyan, Jia and TJ have shown up. So has Eliza Gilchrist, 5, and her little brother, Miles, who is almost 3 (the two of them are natural athletes, a great pleasure to play with and watch). A moment later Aidan Schindler, 4, comes zooming across in front of me singing out an indistinguishable yelp of pure joy that announces his vibrant arrival: “I here! I here! Ain’t-cha glad to see me? Ain’t-cha glad to see me? Ain’t-cha? Ain’t-cha?”

I tell him I am glad to see him, that he’s one of my favorite human beings. And he is. Then I go about my business, helping the 12–14 children who are now sitting on the bench take a turn at bat.

Callie Hester, 7, came from a day of allergy tests. She pushes her left sleeve to her shoulder and shows us five needle marks. Oh my.

“Did they hurt?” Five other children step forward claiming to have had two, three, four or five shots themselves that very day, each of them pointing to a different spot on their little bodies. When the last boy points to a spot just below his left knee cap and then to another spot on the upper rear portion of his calf, I think maybe some of these shots may be purely imaginary. Callie shows us the 22 ink stains on her back where they pricked her 22 times. She said the 22 pricks made her cry.

Late in the evening 4-year-old Russell Besson comes to the plate. When he hits the ball, we say it’s a home run and tell him to keep running all the way around the bases. Coach Matt Minde comes chasing after him, trying to catch him, but Russell is too swift. Matt, hooting and hollering, chases after him the next time, too: “I’m gonna catch you, I’m gonna catch you,” Matt sings out, flailing his arms, making wonderfully scary faces, but Russell is as fleet as a dream. He is too quick, too agile, and much too speedy for this long-legged, gangly giant of a man hot on his heels. And then as Russell comes racing around third base and heads for home — he’s running full-tilt; any faster and he’s liable to take wing — the remarkable happens.

The boy is lit up, incandescent. There’s a look on his face, a look of pure joy that is stunning — his eyes wide and shooting x-rays, his grin stretched so far across his face it feels like it might hurt, his happiness is so intense it’s electrifying. He is beaming, he is shining, he is laughing, and running as hard as he can. And then he crosses home plate and it is over as quickly as it began — a fleeting, flying, flashing moment of a boy in the exquisite throes of a perfect love — of oneself, one’s world, and everyone and everything in it.

And that’s our Perry League, Yellow Springs’ t-ball program for girls and boys 2–9 years of age. We welcome all our community’s children regardless of race, color or creed. Your child can begin at any time (it’s free) and there’s no requirement to play every week. We’ll be out there at Gaunt Park for two more Friday nights from 6:30 to 8 p.m. trying to do what we do best — loving our children, our community and each other. It’s a time and place of wonder, open to all who dare to venture forth. Won’t you dare?

Summer open gym for girls basketball players

The McKinney School and Yellow Springs High School girls basketball program is offering open gym sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 4 to 6 p.m. The sessions are open to any middle and high school girls interested in playing basketball. Players or parents with questions can contact Coach Duncan Thomas at 937-580-0152.

Girls volleyball meeting

Girls who are interested in playing high school volleyball are asked to attend a meeting on Monday, Aug. 3, 6 p.m., in the Yellow Springs High School gym. For more information, call Ryan Berning at 937-269-2808 or Chris Linkhart, 937-408-1496.

Girls open gym volleyball

An open gym volleyball for high school girls will be held on Mondays and Wednesdays, in the Yellow Springs High School gym, from 6 to 8 p.m. For more information, contact Ryan Berning at 937-269-2808.