There once was a game, as pure as could be,
To keep our kids busy, in a time before TV.
Kids would rise up at dawn and reach for their glove,
Be out until dinner with the game that they love.
There were no rule books, committees, or boards,
No organizations, stat sheets, there were no awards.
Then came the parents to fix this great game,
“Let’s form a league and give it a name.”
Then parents can watch them, and cheer for their son
There won’t be any pressure, the kids will have fun.
Now parents are watching, the egos inflate
“My son is awesome, my son is great.”
“No my son is better; he’ll hit a home run,
He should be playing, not the coaches son.”
A boy stands at the plate and hears Daddy shout,
“Bat back, eyes level, you best not strike out”
He runs hard to first, the throws not in time.
The first baseman’s dad screams “That umpires blind”
Now dad is yelling “get a bigger lead”
He tells all who’ll listen about his sons’ great speed.
Coach gives him the steal sign, a close play at the bag
Did he get caught at second, or slide under the tag.
“He’s out” yells the ump, (He got the call right)
Now parents are screaming, there’s almost a fight.
Dad is now saying “This coach is a fool”
If I were the manager this team would rule
No one sees the tear in that poor kid’s eye
Not ‘cause he’s out, but we all know why.
So here’s to the parents who ruined the game
Baseball will never quite be the same.