Shortstop … or Bust!: The Traveling Tales of Youth Baseball

By Linda Padilla-Diaz

Under the attentive guidance of a volunteer manager passionate about baseball, a group of boys assembled as the B team to play travel baseball for their town team. In Shortstop or Bust!, author Linda Padilla-Diaz shares a compilation of stories covering the journey through the five years her two sons played competitive traveling youth baseballfrom her perspective as both a mother and the managers wife.

Shortstop or Bust! describes Padilla-Diazs love of the game and delves into parents fixation for their childrens extracurricular activities, seeking the glorified shortstop position. The humorous, touching chronicle of lefty Derek and manager Harry provides firsthand insight into the growing revolution and competitiveness of youth travel baseball. The story begins with the modest commencement of the team with overzealous coaches and dads and describes their winning transformation through several seasons. Padilla-Diaz offers an entertaining play-by-play account of events and provides an up-close view of the games the team played.

Offering a personal account into the harried nature of youth baseball, Shortstop or Bust! presents an informative, amusing, and bittersweet story about the five-year journey of a group of boys who worked hard and played hard to win.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475965025

Linda Padilla-Diaz

Linda Padilla-Diaz is a working mother, law school graduate, baseball fanatic, coach, and softball director. She and her husband have two boys and live in northern New Jersey.

Book preview

Summer 2005-8U

Prelude with Preston

AFTER A SPRING SEASON OF getting their feet wet, the 8U town travel team entered a local popular tournament, Lincoln Tournament. What would become the norm would be to play several tournaments and juggle many games. They participated in the 8U NJ American Amateur Baseball Congress (AABC) tournament and the Durham Summer tournament, and classic rivalries emerged. Our summer roster consisted of fifteen kids and many coaches, and the squad set out to play many games.

While it seems atypical for seven- and eight-year-olds to play competitively, this group did. In the first game, we were scheduled to play Preston, but were missing four regular players, away on vacation. After the introductory year, the parents hadn’t learned the silent rule—you do not go on vacation until summer baseball is over.

Harry (officially manager) and his coaching staff of three coaches (unofficially—seven overzealous dads who wanted to oversee) were ready to compete. After the requisite coin flip, we were designated the visiting team, meaning the other team had the last at bat. I had a bad feeling because I like the last attempt to bat up and score. Tension was high, and nerves were rattled; if you lost, you went into the loser’s bracket, and it was really tough to get out of that. Not to mention that the league board of directors had suggested to Harry that it would be nice to win because it had been nine years since the town had won. This was a must win.

The kids played defense like professionals and not the seven- and eight-year-olds they were. Sonny’s son, Stefon, pitched three innings, and while parents were a mess, he was calmly blowing bubbles. In the earlier innings, no runs to score had been made on either side. Derek, seven and one of the smallest on the team, played centerfield. Derek and Harry are not tall in stature, but their baseball hearts and guts are the size of any seven-footer. Derek threw a frozen rope from centerfield to second base for the last out in the fifth inning, which did not allow their run to score when the other kid ran from third base. Harry, who normally showed no emotion, was banging the fence with probable pride (which he would never admit). The games are supposed to be six innings, but by the bottom of the sixth, the game was still scoreless—0–0—requiring extra innings. Frazzled nerves, cursing coaches who were being warned to calm down by the umpire, and yelling parents filled the stands, and I felt like I could pee in my pants; my already weakened bladder couldn’t handle the pressure. Our kids cried if they struck out or didn’t make it on base, but it was the kind of game where both sides were making plays and ensuring that the other side didn’t score first. Spectators heard about the 0–0 game and stopped by to watch.

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At the top of the seventh, we score, and I have to do everything in my power not to have an accident because my bladder is weak and my heart is racing. As the home team, Preston bats last. Harry brings in a pitcher, Marty, and after two outs, he walks a batter, so the bases are loaded. Harry calls time-out and walks to the mound. The infield joins him, and Harry states, "Get mad; these kids are ready to take your game away."

Marty strikes out the next batter; we win and are in the revered winner’s bracket! When you win 1–0 in extra innings, as the visiting team missing four regular players, props are in order.

Derek gets the game ball for his play, which prevents a run from scoring. Nice beginning to the tournament!

Edgy with Eastchester

AS WE MOVED FORWARD IN the winner’s bracket, we faced Eastchester. The first game was at a field where spectators sat on opposing bleachers. This game was at another field with one bleacher, which means spectators for both teams sat together! This was not an accommodating setup; every time one of Eastchester’s kids was up, the Eastchester spectators were yelling at our kids and vice versa. I almost cursed at a dad who was out of control. Instead, I did the next right thing, and whenever we got a hit or strike out, I yelled, stood up, and waved both arms in the air to block his view. I tried reminding myself not to turn into a psycho mom.

We started with Stefon, the kid blowing bubbles when he was up pitching in the 0–0 game. Harry nicknamed him Steady Stefon. Kids were only allowed to pitch three innings in this tournament, and I’m happy to say that, after three innings, Eastchester had zero, and we’d managed to score three runs in the first three innings. Derek hit a line drive and managed to get to second base. This made up for the bobble to him in the first inning while at second base, which had allowed a kid to get on base but thankfully not to