Boys of Summer

Spring Training was over and it was time to adjust the roster. It's a job I hate, telling some fresh-faced kid he doesn't have what it takes to make the team. You know they gave all they could but it just wasn't enough – and they're faced with another season in the Bush League. Love, like baseball, can be cruel sometimes; if you can't figure that out you don't have any right to manage a team.

I had called the unlucky guys into my office. The sat in their chairs like the seats were made of burlap, squirming and fidgeting. They knew something was up, and each hoped his number wasn't. Rather than let them suffer, I launched into my speech, perfected after many seasons.

"Boys, a team is only as strong as it's weakest link," I began. "You're all here cause you want to 'play ball', hell, it's your lives. Don't think I don't know that." I paused to light a smoke, exhaled at the ceiling, and then looked back at them. "This is the toughest part of my job, guys, but I can't have AA players on this team.

"Bob, I hate to do this, but you're off the roster." Bob clenched his fists as they lay in his lap. "You showed hustle, and that's good. But I got to tell ya Bob; you need to work on that batting. You're tense in the box; your swing is all over the place. I don't need a guy who's gonna be finished in three swings."

"But how can I help it?" Bob asked plaintively. "It's a tight batter's box! Maybe I'm trying too hard, but I just wanted to show you I want to be in there." I looked him in the eyes and shook my head.

"Sorry, Bob, You get out there and practice and we'll see you at tryouts next spring." That was one down. Time to move on.

"Chad, I thought you had what it takes. Then you pulled that stunt last game – remember?" Chad nodded silently, blushing at the memory. "You get up to bat, next thing I know you're trying to steal third? Chad, honey, the bases go in order. You can't just go running for third without tagging first and second. I'll give you credit, it was a nice idea, but any rookie knows the rules."

"I lost my head, Coach!" Chad tried to explain. "Sure, I know the rules, but third was just sitting there all wide open and ready for me!" Poor Chad, I thought. That kind of hustle would stand him well in the insurance business, maybe, but not on my team. Two down, one to go.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you, Mike?" I asked the last sad figure. "I call you up, tell you it's a practice day, and what do you do? You show up late. On game days, you show up with beer on your breath. I don't care if you wanna party, but not when it's gonna make your bat sluggish. I couldn't even put you in the game, could I?" My voice was rising now; I was still pissed about the incident. "If I had the luxury of a D.H., I might have let it ride, but I had to forfeit that game! I HATE FORFEITING GAMES, MIKE. That night was a total waste of everyone's time!" That was enough, I thought. Didn't want to make the guy feel too bad, or he might never be able to bat again.

I looked at them trying to keep their faces neutral and my heart sank. How could I do this to my boys? Sure, they had their bad moments, but they had their good ones too. I thought of the time Bob had spent an hour cleaning out the batter's box with his tongue, the time that Chad had remembered to tag the bases and spent so much time rubbing his hair all over second, and the night that Mike had actually shown up sober and on time, and proceeded to hit three home runs. I thought for a second, and when I spoke again, my voice was kind.

"On the other hand, guys, maybe you just need a little extra coaching. I'll tell ya what – I'll give you all a month, no, TWO months. We'll spend some time on your swing, Bob. Chad, we'll take our time running the bases over and over, and Mike? If you can show me that you're not aiming to end up like Daryl Strawberry, we can work something out.

"But I gotta warn you guys – I've got my eye on this new kid out of California State. He swings a mean, big bat. He knows the bases backwards, forwards and sideways. He listens to direction. Gets a base hit every time he's up. Unless you want to find he's the new star, you better hustle. Got it?"

The boys ran out of my office having filled my ears with words of gratitude. I lit another cig and put my feet up on the desk. It was gonna be a long summer, but three eager batsmen should help pass the time. Plus, I had the new kid to think about.

Sometimes it's hard managing a team, but other times...