Sandlot                               

 

from Children of Vallejo

 

Before there was Little League, there was sandlot ball, played at the schools and playgrounds around town run by the recreation district. Jake Catado was our sandlot coach and we all loved him. He was a college student in his early twenties, and you will never meet a guy with a sunnier attitude. With Jake, it was all about having fun. He’d just roll out the bats and balls and let us play.

           We’d hang around the playground on summer days, playing ping pong or paddle tennis, or just goofing off. If enough guys showed up, we’d head out to the baseball field to play over-the-line, or workups, or three-flies-up, all just games we made up.

The best part was traveling across town to play some other school. We’d all pile into Jake’s old Chevy sedan, about a dozen of us, including two in the trunk, and hit the road. It wouldn’t be long before we’d be singing at the top of our lungs: “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” or “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.” We’d even sing on the field:

 

Good morning to you / Good morning to you

We’re all in our places / With sunshiny faces...

On the way home, we’d stop somewhere for Cokes. God, it was fun.

Then came Little League and our coaches didn’t want us playing on the sandlots anymore. Now we had uniforms, and batting helmets, and rubber spikes, and official umpires, and parents, parents, parents. We were up to our eyeballs in parent involvement. You rode to the games with a knot in your stomach, afraid you’d mess up, maybe disappoint your dad.

It made you wish you were back in Jake’s old Chevy, singing “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.”

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