Little league baseball is more than a game. It is a social event, and as such suggests appropriate dress, equipment, rapport, and demeanor for all involved – players, coaches, umpires, scorekeepers, fans, even the lost stranger who just happens to be there.

Some basic things never change in what was once America’s sport: In the Bigs, it’s still three strikes you’re out, four balls take a base, nine fielders, nine innings, home team bats last, tie goes to the runner, foul balls and extra innings ad infinitum.

In the little leagues, it’s rarely a matter of extra innings; more often it’s a matter of how long an inning can last. New rules are put into play, especially designed to prevent an inning of, say, 27 walks and 38 errors. No one wants to hang out at a little league field after dark when the bloodthirsty mosquitoes come out.

There is still some of that good old baseball lingo in the dugouts and on the field: good eye, good cut, straighten it out, easy out, batta batta batta, yada yada. Lately they’ve added entertainment between innings: sound technicians fly in from major cities bringing eight-foot high speakers and blasting snippets of heavy metal rap songs with apocalyptic lyrics.

This is to fire up the players, and has the added effect of deafening the umpires, who are probably glad they can’t hear the abuse from the fans who yell things like, Are you freaking blind? Who’s paying you? (and of course there are many more descriptive comments that can’t be printed here.)

It is my belief that umpires have become immune not only to the savaging of fans, but also to a sense of fashion, especially regarding their outfits. They appear the same as they did a hundred years ago. Underneath the chest protector is a collared shirt with a pocket for Winstons or Old Gold non filters or a picture of mom. Scrunched into the leg guards are oddly fitting trousers. In general, there is a sagginess; a droop at the gluteal cleft area below lumbar #5. Moreover, the trousers are generally three sizes too big, featuring cuffs that bunch at the bottom and collect the dirt swept from home plate. Yet, despite their apparent disdain for common people, they relish their dramatic moments on the stage. Every ump has his unique style of punctuating a game – his special little songs and dances that kids all across America go home and imitate.

In the distant past, one set of bleachers was the gathering place for fans of both teams. This changed to two sets a hundred yards apart after multiple homicides. Today, there is a more individualized approach to the gatherings: you’ll find an array of high-tech umbrellas and chairs; soon, you can watch the game from within a pop-up patio with an AC, TV and electric fence surrounding it to keep lost strangers from loitering and blocking your view of the game.

Most adults at these games dress conservatively in light summer tops and bermuda shorts. Yet there are some who are on the cutting edge of social norms and prefer to dress for the beach. In fact, if not for certain prohibitive laws, they would present themselves as they might in, say, a commune or colony, free of encumbering loincloths.

On the field, third base coaches have developed a highly complex system of signs for their base runners. Tugging on ears, rubbing forearms, and poking the nose have been replaced by much more elaborate gestures, often resembling someone being attacked by bees. There was an incident in which a coach sneezed inadvertently. His runner on second thought it was a special sign and ran to first base.

While it is still true that boys play hardball and girls play softball, there is a secret movement to combine the two into a unisex league. There are two good reasons for this.

First has to do with the balls. One ball is bigger and heavier. They call it a softball, though there is nothing soft about it, especially if you get hit in the forehead by one going 70 mph. Granted, they can’t cut through the air as fast as the smaller ball, but, due to the way they leave the tips of fingers, they can zigzag, dive, and swoop like heat seeking missiles.

The other reason is that the girls are getting just as good at the game as the boys. Take for example, a hitherto shy, skinny girl who just graduated from 6th grade and has discovered a talent for windmill pitching. In a matter of a few weeks, she has burned all her dolls, pink dresses, and yellow hair ribbons and taken to the mound, where she kicks at the dirt, glaring like the bride of Chucky. She then wheels her arm and lets loose a fireball as both batter and catcher immediately duck and cover like Bert the Turtle.

In the larger scheme of things, little league baseball has become both an inner and inter community event; travel leagues have expanded to all corners of the state, and probably soon overseas, where the Fredonia Furries will visit the Lichtenstein Lizards. In any event, parents, especially those with multiple kids, will have difficult challenges keeping track of where games are played. One bit of misinformation, one glitch on your GPS might render you lost strangers at the wrong ballfield in a third world country.

Pete Howard is the author of The Hourglass Pendant and other Paul James Mysteries. He lives in Dunkirk and teaches ELA at Northern Chautauqua Catholic School. Send comments to editorial@observertoday.com