O'REILLY: Take me out to the ballgame

• Bill O'Reilly

Bill O'Reilly

Talk about it

The urchins were startled. “Hey, let’s go outside

and play some baseball,” I said.

Outside? Are you kidding me? Inside, the two

8-year-old boys have an Xbox, iPads and personal

computers at the ready. Outside?

So I dragged them down to the ball field.

“I need a helmet,” one wailed. “Where’re the

helmets?”

“And what about a heart-guard?” the other

one said. “Mom says I have to get a heartguard

before I can play.”

“We’re just going to practice,” I replied. “No

danger. Let’s just throw the ball around and hit

a few.”

The boys looked confused.

“But we need helmets!”

The year was 1957, and two Central Nassau

Little League teams were on the field. There

were no helmets. No heart-guards. Just a dusty

field with dirty bases and a coach who sat on

a splintered bench drinking beer.

I was 7 years old. Billy Weir was on the

mound. I was at the plate. He threw; I swung

the bat. The ball rocketed into left field. My

first hit ever. I’ll never forget it.

“OK, I’ll hit you guys some grounders, and

you throw the ball home. Got it?”

The boys looked even more confused.

“What happens if the ball hits me?” the

smarter one asked.

“Pain,” I said. “But that’s why you have a

glove. You catch the ball in the glove, and that

protects you.”

I hit a slow grounder to the slower boy. He

stood like a statue as the ball rolled through his

legs.

“What was that?” I asked.

“It was too low,” he replied. “It has to be

higher.”

“You’re supposed to bend down and catch

the ball, “ I said gently. “That’s how you get

guys out. You catch the ball and throw it to

first.”

The kid looked bored. The kid was bored.

There were no electronic zombies to kill. There

were no gadgets in sight.

“OK, let’s do some hitting,” I said, attempting

to refocus the boys.

I threw the urchins some soft tosses, and

they began to hit the ball. On contact, the bat

made a loud noise, which they liked. Reminded

them of the noises that feed their gaming addiction.

“OK, now we’re going to run the bases.”

“Why?” they said in unison.

“Because after you hit the ball, you run from

base to base. That’s how you score runs.”

The kids ran to first. But they began to tire

after reaching second. They both stopped and

just stood there looking at me.

I looked back.

“How long are we going to do this?” the

smarter one said. “I need a helmet if we’re

gonna keep playing.”

Tags: opinion, updates, columns, baseball