So, I ended up at the Farmington baseball fields the other day. Wasn’t exactly on my to-do list, but the weather was decent, and I figured, why not see what the local talent, or lack thereof, was up to. It’s been a while since I paid any real attention to the hometown diamond efforts, to be honest.
Getting Started Out There
I got there, and the usual scene was unfolding. Kids, mostly high school age I reckon, were scattered around, some looking keen, others looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. You know the type. Coaches were trying to herd them into some semblance of order. Took ’em a bit, but they eventually got everyone moving.
They kicked things off with warm-ups. Jogging, stretching, the whole nine yards. Some looked like they were actually putting effort into it, loosening up properly. Others were just going through the motions, barely breaking a sweat. I always say, if you can’t even warm up right, what hope is there for the actual game, eh?
Drills and More Drills
Then came the real work, or what passes for it. They split into groups.
- Infielders were taking grounders. Lots of chatter, some good stops, and plenty of balls skittering into the outfield. Heard the coach yelling, “Use two hands!” more times than I could count. Classic.
- Outfielders were shagging fly balls. Some good tracking, a few misjudgments. Communication seemed okay, a few “I got it!” calls, which is better than nothing.
- And then batting practice. That’s always a mixed bag. Some nice pings off the bat, a few solid line drives. Then you had the guys swinging for the fences and mostly hitting air or little pop-ups. One kid had a decent swing, though. Smooth. Might be one to watch, if he keeps his head on straight.
The coaches, a couple of older fellas, seemed to know their stuff, mostly. Trying to impart wisdom, fix stances, that sort of thing. One was a bit louder than the other, really getting into it. The other was more laid back, pulling kids aside for a quiet word. Different styles, I guess. Takes all sorts to make a team, or try to.
My Take on the Whole Thing
I stuck around for a good hour or so, just observing. It’s funny, you see so much just by watching. The effort levels, who’s really listening, who’s just there because their parents made ’em come. I used to play a bit myself, way back when. Nothing professional, mind you, just for the love of the game. So, I kind of get the grind, the repetition of drills, trying to get better one swing or one catch at a time.
It wasn’t a pro setup, by any means. Far from it. But there was some genuine effort there, under all the usual teenage distractions and occasional goofing off. They ran some base-running drills towards the end, looked like they were getting tired, but most pushed through. That’s something, at least.
Overall, it was an afternoon. The sun was out, the crack of the bat, the thud of the ball in the glove – it’s a familiar soundtrack. Farmington’s got a team, they’re out there practicing. Will they win the championship? Probably not from what I saw today. But they’re giving it a go. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for. Made me think I should probably dust off my old glove, just for kicks. Nah, probably not.
