Fallout from a post about baseball

“It’s all because of me and my old man. God, I fucking hate him. He’s like, he’s like this mindless machine I can’t even relate to anymore. ‘Andrew, you’ve got to be number one. I won’t tolerate any losers in this family. Your intensity is for shit. Win! Win! Win!’ You son of a bitch. You know, sometimes I wish my knee would give and I wouldn’t be able to wrestle anymore. He could forget all about me.”

People often ask why I write. The answer is simple. I write to make a difference. I write to promote progressive parenting and politics. I use my blog and media connections to speak out against injustice, intolerance, and general douchebaggery.

I also like to write about the joys of getting older and how my ass is starting to sag.

Liberal and moderate readers might check in for comfort; they want to know they are not alone. Conservatives love the boobies.

Everyone wins.

Usually the reactions to my writing fall along familiar lines. Those of us who have made a difference using words and inspiring actions know that change is possible. We came of age helping movements to end apartheid and animal-testing as well as campaigns to start recycling programs and elect Bill Clinton to office. We know the power of change first hand.

Others have no real-life experience changing anything other than their underwear. They can’t fathom the nerve and compassion it takes to raise a voice against cruelty. Not when American Idol is on, goddamn it.

(That’s humor. I sometimes use it to make a point. Sarcasm, too. Big fan.)

As a result, when comparing reactions to my recent post about youth baseball, like-minded folks respond with reasoned arguments in support of a more tolerant and positive experience for our kids on the ball field. They have studies and education to fall back on and prove their points well.

Those on the other end of the spectrum respond with the usual (insert beer burp here):

“Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“If you don’t like it, leave.”

“You look like a man with tits.”

In the past, I’ve heard similar comments (“Move to Canada” or “Go back to Boston!”) when criticizing local or national policies. The attacks always turn personal because these poor slobs never learned how to formulate an effective argument in between keggers and court dates.

The idea that I’d rather stay and make my home and surrounding areas a better place in which to live just doesn’t occur to them.

After hearing from so many of you who’ve had similar experiences, I wrote a formal complaint to the head of Forest Hills Youth Baseball. I made it very clear to her that my son is fine. He has not been harmed by the experience of playing with these people. If he had, I’d have yanked him from the league long ago. Instead, we’ve talked about why he loves baseball and how it is one part of our lives, not the whole thing, and his good manners, straight-As in school, guitar lessons, close-knit family and friends all make him a well-rounded and terrific human being.

So if it’s not bothering him, why speak out? I am speaking out now because I cannot sit by while parents are abusing their kids. Silence is a form of acceptance.

No. Fucking. Thank. You.

I wrote my post for a similar reason. These parents might not have meant to harm, but they did publicly shame their children. And for that, they deserve some public shame of their own.

Friends and family grew concerned at the vitriolic nature of the comments and some of the hate mail I’ve received from anonymous readers. They encouraged me to submit the piece to local papers, but to take out the names. At first, I decided to submit the article with names intact. Then I heard from a fellow writer and her argument hit home:

Abuse in youth sports is a huge problem all over the country. I might make more of a difference if I didn’t target anyone directly.

I found that hard to believe, at first. I tried to tell the coaches and parents what I thought at the game last Saturday (without appearing in a bikini or using profanity) and they still attacked me. No matter what, these people don’t want to question their own behavior.

Then I thought a second time.

Anyone reading this in Tarpon Springs or South Tampa or Temple Terrace shouldn’t think nastiness is simply a Forest Hills phenomenon. I don’t want adults in Denver to think bad sportsmanship is just about three parents in Tampa.

I’m talking about them, too.

So I submitted yesterday’s post to my editor at Creative Loafing sans names and identifying characteristics. It will be in print either this week or next.

Suck on that, haters.

Meanwhile I continue to receive threatening emails regarding practice and game day this week. Media friends want me to wear a hidden camera.

Fun. “Could you please speak INTO the microphone?”

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’d rather be dead than live a life of silence and fear. I teach my kids to stand up for what’s right and therefore, I regularly model the behavior I seek in them.

I will not be bullied into submission. If this league shapes up and parents stop yelling insults at innocent children, I will be the first to write an updated post and give them all the credit in the world. But if they think I’m going to cower in the face of ad hominem attacks and logic that would make a middle-schooler cringe, they have another thing coming.

In the immortal words of Snoop Dogg, when he found out Suge Knight was leaving jail and coming after him,

“What I’m supposed to do? Run?”

No. Fucking. Thank. You.

Tags: forest hills baseball, youth baseball, youth sports