Wednesday, Aug. 27, 2008

The lighter side of sports

If we'd just leave the kids alone

A 9-year-old pitcher throws too hard and is banned from taking the mound in his youth league in Connecticut. The kid's coach puts him on the hill anyway, so the opposing team takes its ball and goes home.

The pitcher's coach resigns. The league will disband the team. Parents protest. Lawyers become involved.

Mom is irate and threatening, according to the league attorney. Mom says it's no such thing, though she did call the cops.

Story gains national headlines, and the kid's pitching motion now is being watched and admired more than CC Sabathia.

Well now, nothing new here, huh?

Put a bunch of kids on a field, court or course, and watch them go. Allow adults to get involved, and watch the whole thing blow up.

Jericho Scott is a cute kid, just like any other 9-year-old. He also pitches 40 miles per hour. His mechanics are sound. He's balanced, has a short leg kick with a consistent landing point, points his glove at separation, keeps his head still and eyes focused, and leads with his chin.

That's the good part of the story.

Everything else is bad.

And before we proceed, let's get one thing straight: 40 mph is not that fast, not even for a 9-year-old. Leave the sensationalism at the door. Ask the people at Bel Passi PONY, Turlock Little League, Oakdale Cal Ripken, Ceres and other area youth leagues, and see what they say.

More so, it's a guarantee you'll find millions of dads from Manteca to Merced and all the way to New Haven, Conn., who will stick out their chests and proudly proclaim, "My 9-year-old hits in the (voice rising for emphasis) 60-mile-an-hour cage."

So what should have happened here? The parents of the Youth Baseball League of New Haven should have enjoyed Jericho and every other player instead of ruining the kids' good time.

There were several solutions instead of the path they chose.

Instead of banning him from pitching, league officials should have encouraged opposing coaches to conduct drills that would help their players learn to hit Jericho's pitching. Jericho's effort should have been lauded. Let him enjoy the moment.

Or, if Jericho's fastball is a legitimate safety concern in his division -- no problem there -- then make the kid play up a division. That would be another badge of honor for Jericho.

If mom and dad don't like it, well, there are plenty of tournament teams in the area that would love to have Jericho. Heck, in this day and age, you could probably find a fair amount of tournament teams in California that would pick him up, pay his airfare and sign him to a contract for a case of Capri Sun and a box of Sour Skittles.

Instead, we're left with a group of adults who made all the wrong moves, created a national incident and destroyed a boy's confidence.

The saddest comment in this whole farce came from young Jericho, who told The Associated Press, "I feel sad. I feel like it's all my fault nobody could play."

Nicely done, everybody.

The Associated Press contributed to this report