A Great Little League Baseball Memory
We were a ragtag bunch. Looking back nearly a half century, I can see that now. See it clear as day.
But we sure didn’t see ourselves that way back then.
We were, oh, ten and eleven and twelve years old back then, a Little League baseball team. Or maybe, if truth be told, we were a little Little League baseball team. We didn’t think about any Central Plains regional baseball tournament or traveling long distances in the summer time or going to any Little League World Series in some faraway place called Williamsport, Pennsylvania.
Nope. We were much more concerned about places with names like Woodstock, Chandler, Lake Wilson and Edgerton.
You see, we were the Little league team from Leota, Minnesota.
Our little close knit community of, I dunno, 250 folks or so wasn’t even incorporated. Still isn’t.
What we did have was two very important things: 1) A great baseball field, and 2) An incredible love for the game of baseball. And so we played.
And for one magical year we won. And won. And then we won some more.
We beat Lake Wilson. We beat Chandler. We beat Woodstock twice. Heck we even beat our big city rival, Edgerton! (Yes, I said big city, heck, they had about a thousand people!) And then it happened. We had to play a giant.
Slayton, Minnesota. A team we had never ever played before. A team we had never ever even seen before! Slayon, county seat of Murray County Minnesota. A city that had, well, probably two or three times as many people as Edgerton. Geez, they even had a hospital. I know that for a fact, I was born there! So what in the world were we doing playing these guys??
We won. Nope, if I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’. We beat Slayton. You can look it up (but I wouldn’t know where): Leota beat Slayton in Slayton in Little League baseball that one time, that one year, all those many decades ago.
Our coach treated all of us to ice cream cones at a local drive-in in Slayton after the game, and then the looooong (OK, I don’t know, 20 miles or so?) victorious drive back to Leota.
We had beaten the big guys, had slain the dragon. Me, Ivan, Loren, Gene, Ed, the other Gene and the rest…all of us. We beat Slayton.
We only lost one game that whole year and I can’t even remember who it was. It might have been Woodstock when we got to the tournament, a team we’d beaten twice before. I can’t be sure but somebody beat us that one time.
And I suppose, a half century or so later, does it really matter that this little Little League team beat that big Little League team?
Of course it doesn’t.
But of course it does!
For so many years after that, all through the decades, whenever I would be back in Leota our Little league coach from that year would say ‘Hey, remember when we beat Slayton’?
Oh yes, yessiree, I certainly do remember that game, I remember pitching that game (I could pitch plum good, but I could NOT hit worth a…well, worth a toot!), I remember us winning that game.
Our Little league coach that year was a great guy named Howard. Howard passed away several years ago and now when I visit that little township cemetery to check up on my Mom and Dad, that cemetery out there outside Leota between the corn and beans, I stroll over to his gravesite, his stone. And I ask him (or just ask me, I guess), ‘Remember when we beat Slayton’? I hope wherever he is, he does.
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