Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred Forty-Six: Yuniesky Betancourt, Kansas City Royals
There may be no crying in baseball, but there’s an awful lot of it in kindergarten.
Chelsea has had a rough two weeks adjusting to life beyond preschool, where her best friend Jimmy was always by her side. Mornings have found her clutching my wife outside the doors of her school, begging Amy not to leave her. As teachers have led Chelsea inside, she has grabbed for her mom with tears streaming down her 5-year-old cheeks. The school nurse has given her stuffed animals to carry around for comfort during and after the school day. A good morning at school has seen Chelsea whimpering rather than sobbing.
It’s so hard sometimes to step into the great unknown, and kindergarten certainly represents that for some children. For Chelsea, it symbolizes a greater step away from the protective care of her mom and grandma, not to mention a place where she can’t sniff her blankie whenever she wishes. So right now, mornings are tough.
Tom Hanks told us in the film A League of Their Own that there’s no crying in baseball. But that’s not always true. One of the most indelible images of baseball during my childhood was a photograph of Kansas City Royals shortstop Freddie Patek crying in the Royals’ dugout after his team had lost the deciding game of the 1977 American League Championship Series to the New York Yankees. I can remember feeling great admiration for Patek’s desire to win and to keep wearing that blue and white uniform, despite my own affection for the team that had beaten the Royals.
It’s been awhile since a Royals player has had the chance to cry tears of sorrow or joy after a playoff series. The last time Kansas City found itself in the playoffs, current Royals shortstop Yuniesky Betancourt was not yet old enough for kindergarten. Those 1985 Royals won their championship in dramatic style, but it’s been far too long. After a quarter-century of missing the playoffs, Kansas City fans would probably give anything just for the chance to cry over a lost postseason series, as that would have meant a summer full of meaningful baseball.
But as the Royals stumble to the finish line again in 2010, the tears must wait at least another year. The dry eyes in Missouri are more than counterbalanced here in New Jersey, though, as Chelsea turns on the faucets when nine o’clock approaches.
There are, however, some hopeful signs on the kindergarten front. As I picked her up from school yesterday, Chelsea was wearing a “sticky sign” on her shirt. A long piece of masking tape ran diagonally along the front of her T-shirt, and it bore a message from her teacher. In black marker, the message read: “I was happy at school today!”
Well there you go, Sweetie. Give me a hug. You were a big girl today. We are so proud of you.
After the crying comes the courage.
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