Opening Day

The bases are jammed. The umpire calls ball four, and the base runners all advance. When the man on second becomes the man on third, I lean out of the coach's box and to tell him how I want him to step off the bag after every pitch, you know, dare the catcher to throw down, maybe throw the ball into left field, leading to a run, which will tie the game.

But he's wiggling his hips, shoving his index fingers in the air, and singing, literally, "do...do... doooby... dee."

After the vein in my forehead starts pulsing, I have a moment of realization: I am a first-year youth baseball coach.

Saturday was the first game for my team, the Dodgers, and we lost 5-3 to the Mets. No worries. I didn't decide to become a coach to yell and scream at 11-year olds that winning is the only thing that matters. I did it as a way to give back to the game I love...and to make up for over 20 years of drunken debauchery.

My buddy, D.G., who coaches with me (under the watchful eye of a "head coach" since we're new) didn't do it to yell at kids either. He just got married, so, as a single guy, I'm assuming he did it to have an excuse to get out of the house...oh yeah, and to give back to the game he loves.

Here are the highlights that were sent into the commish of the league, who asked us to report the score, and the name of the players who hit home runs.

Here's the response:

Like a client of the Jacob F. Ruth Funeral Director that sponsors them, The Dodgers were put on ice in their home opener, losing 5-3 to the Mets.

There were no home runs to report.

In fact, there are no hits leaving the infield to report for either team. Honestly, the hit that had the most impact during the whole game came in the first inning when our catcher got hit between the legs, went cross-eyed, and keeled over. Turns out that he didn't have a cup on. Turns out nobody on either team had a cup, except to hold their juices and waters.

In other words, a great time was had by all.

And it's true.

Bring on the Braves.