Little League

I'm not Kayti. My name is Debbi. Kayti's only/9 years old. (Sung to the tune of an old pop tune called "I'm not Lisa.")

It has come to my attention that the name at the end of each blog entry is my daughter's. That's because she has a blog, too, on the same account. But I can attest to the fact that it is I, Debbi, who is writing this stuff. Please direct comments to me.

Kayti -- who, incidentally, has once again changed the spelling of her name, this time to "KaTTy," because she likes to make two capital T's together -- attended a Little League pitching clinic yesterday. She was the only girl among 15 or so boys.

One might think that the reason for this is that girls are not interested in playing baseball, or maybe pitching hardball. After yesterday's experience, I have another theory.

As I signed her up, the man in charge said, "Baseball? Not softball?" I said, "Baseball, right Kayti?" And Kayti nodded.

"Cause not many girls are signing up for Little League," the guy said in a cautionary tone. "They're signing up for softball."

I let that pass without comment.

Then, in the gym, a conversation with another man who apparently was somehow involved with the organization went something like this:

Him: Is your daughter sure she wants baseball, not softball?

Me: Yes.

Him: Most of the girls go out for softball by this age.

Me: Neat.

Him: It's really competitive. You'd be surprised.

Me: Well, Kayti wants to be in Little League.

Him: Just be prepared, because by the time she gets into junior high, she probably won't make the team. (This was IN FRONT of my child!)

Me: Why do you say that?

Him: Oh, there's a big difference in strength at that age.

Me: Well, maybe by the time she gets to junior high, there'll be a girls baseball team.

Him: Maybe!

I have to tell you, I found myself stewing over this conversation the whole hour of the clinic. I discussed it with another mother as we waited in the cafeteria. She said she thought this might be the first year there's a softball organization and that maybe girls were being steered to it, to get it off the ground.

Well, you know, maybe that's true, and maybe it's all done with girls' best interests at heart, but I really think it's no one else's business if my daughter chooses to play hardball. And maybe I'm just paranoid, but I also suspect there may be an undercurrent of "baseball is for boys" in the thinking here.

Hello! We're in the 21st century. We could see a woman president elected this year. Women are winning Nobel prizes in chemistry. Men are having sex changes. Beagles are winning the Westminster dog show! Anything can happen. Gee, by the year 2012, a girl could make the junior high baseball team!

Anyway, I really don't think the probability of making the junior high team has much to do with my 9-year-old daughter wanting to play in Little League. We are not basing today's decisions on how buff Kayti is in seventh grade, any more than we are not preventing third-grade boys from studying math because they probably won't be as smart as girls in junior high.

When I told my husband about the exchange at the pitching clinic, he laughed and said he'd gotten the same spiel from another Little League organizer. "I knew exactly how you'd react," he said. "I said to myself, 'Uh, oh. Debbi's going to get her panties in a twist over THIS one!' "

He's wrong, of course, as he almost always is. My panties, for the record, are not in a twist. A bunch, maybe. But not a twist.

Because if they were in a twist, I wouldn't be able to catch for Kayti as she practices her pitching. And we're going to be doing a lot of practicing. We were both pleased with what she learned in the clinic yesterday, even if she doesn't make the team in 2012.