© St. Petersburg Times, published August 8, 2002
GULFPORT -- Just in case the big boys are watching, this is what revenue sharing looks like. A tin bucket passed through the bleachers for donations.
Just in case the negotiators are hung up, this is where competitive balance starts. Identical dorms with bunk beds stacked from here to there.
Just in case you feared for the future of baseball, this is where you will find hope. A bunch of 12-year-olds who don't know much about work stoppages but will throw their support behind longer summer breaks.
The Little League Southeast region tournament continues this week, and there's no way Donald Fehr can be happy about it.
Where's the greed? The selfishness? My goodness, where is the contempt? Any union boss will tell you this is no way for future major-leaguers to behave.
"I know they make a lot of money in the majors," said Carter Pair of Georgia's state champion team from Columbus. "But money's not everything."
We are approaching fall, and once again, there is uncertainty about the sanctity of the World Series in October. Around here? No chance. The Little League World Series is strike-proof.
After all, what would cause a 12-year-old to picket?
No MTV in the dorm? Always last in the car pool?
How about a ban on Nintendo?
"They could take away Nintendo. I wouldn't care. Baseball is too much fun," Georgia's Zach Laughlin said. "I'd play all night long if I could."
How about a ban on TV?
"TV? I don't know about that," Laughlin said. "I couldn't live without my TV."
Games do not start on time. Names are mispronounced on the public address system, and play is actually halted when a coach has to escort one of his players to the restroom behind the backstop. Yet it's all good.
There are major-leaguers who do not sign autographs before games or refuse to engage in a cordial conversation because they're busy focusing. Two players from West Virginia were so unfocused, they were playing a video baseball game while teammates were getting ready to take the field.
You have parents with camcorders shouting for little Johnny to smile while he's at the plate with two outs and runners on.
Fans from Phenix City, Ala., were shouting their players were fixing to bow up. I'm not sure what that means, but I suspect it's illegal in some Florida counties.
You have steroids in the majors. You have Oxy 10 in Little League.
What would we discover if these players actually were drug tested?
"Definitely nachos," said Deanie Pearcy, whose son, Cody, plays for Alabama. "Maybe Snickers."
Even when parents threaten to overwhelm the fun with their twisted sense of importance and value, the children know better.
One misguided soul was upset about a close call at the plate and shouted, "You're missing a good game, blue." He seemed so proud, he said it again and again. A player waiting for the next game turned and shook his head.
"Dude, you killed it," he said. "The joke is dead."
Around here, there are no owners talking about bottom lines. There are no agents worried how a player might inflate his stats.
Around here, there are team huddles outside the dugout and postgame handshakes with opponents. Mostly, there is joy.
"They're not even teenagers yet. They're not thinking too much about girls or cars," said Bob Cross, manager of the Braden River team from Florida.
"Right now, they're just kids. And baseball to them is pure. I really wish some of the major-leaguers could watch the way these kids play."
It's not perfect. There are still parents willing to fight over a child's game. And children lacking in the most basic of manners. We have seen that around here just in the past month.
But for the most part, this is baseball the way you want to remember it. A game's outcome might seem important for a minute or two afterward, but there is always pizza to be eaten and jokes to be told.
Mostly, there is always another game to be played.
So what would it take for these guys to go on strike?
Upgrading from the postgame soda to a per diem? Permission to skip one practice a week to work with a personal trainer?
"The only way they could keep us from playing is if they took away the bats and balls and gloves," Braden River catcher Matt Milazzo said.
First baseman Tyler Redmond shakes his head in agreement.
"Yeah, that'd be tough," he said. "But we'd still probably find a way to play."