Just when you think the world has gone completely to pot, something happens that reminds you there is still a hell of a lot of good out there.
This weekend, I found it at a baseball diamond.
And no, I didn’t expect that.
It wasn’t the weather that made this weekend special.
The weather was all over the place — sunshine, clouds and rain.
Who cares?
Because sometimes it isn’t the weather that makes a weekend.
It’s the people.
I’ll admit I was a little disappointed this weekend because the Gatineau Hot Air Balloon Festival was taking place.
I’ve been there before.
It is spectacular.
Hundreds of balloons of all shapes, colours and sizes rising slowly into the sky in the morning and evening.
It’s one of those sights that can stop you in your tracks.
But while balloons were filling the sky in Gatineau, something else was filling the air right here in Cobourg.
The cheers of children.
The screams of parents.
The encouragement of teammates.
And the unmistakable sound of eight-year-olds playing baseball like their lives depended on it.
The Ontario Baseball Association U8 Championships came to Legion Fields this weekend.
And the host Northumberland Jacks were right in the middle of it.
Now, baseball has never been at the top of my list of sporting events.
But after spending time at Legion Fields this weekend, I can tell you something.
You had to be there.
Because this wasn’t just baseball.
It was something much bigger.
Parents were cheering.
Siblings were cheering.
Grandparents were cheering.
Friends were cheering.
And the players?
They were absolutely all in.
You might wonder whether an eight-year-old really understands what it means to compete.
Do they really care whether they win?
Do they really understand disappointment?
Do they really understand what it means to be part of a team?
After watching the Jacks, there is no question.
They get it.
They get it better than a lot of adults do.
When one of their teammates got a hit, the entire team erupted.
When someone made it safely to base, there were cheers from the bench.
And when someone struck out or was put out?
Nobody turned their back.
Nobody said, “Too bad.”
Nobody blamed them.
Their teammates were there.
Cheering them on.
Picking them up.
Waiting for them when they returned to the bench.
That is what a team is supposed to be.
And damn, it was something to see.
Over the weekend I said more than once that the cheering at some of these games was louder than anything you would hear at a Leafs game.
And I meant it.
There was more emotion.
More excitement.
And, quite frankly, more heart.
Every time a player walked toward the plate, you could see them getting ready.
Some had their own little ritual.
A swing.
A breath.
A look toward the pitcher.
Then the pitch came.
Sometimes they crushed the ball.
Sometimes they got on base.
Sometimes they didn’t.
That’s baseball.
You can hit the ball hard and still be out.
You can do everything right and still not get the result you wanted.
Sound familiar?
It should.
Because that’s life.
And that’s where the coaches came in.
Rick Cromlish.
Dave Throop.
Josh Minifie.
Steve Clarey.
Willie Reyns.
They weren’t just coaching baseball.
They were coaching life.
There were moments when a young player came back to the bench with tears in their eyes.
And before they even got there, a coach was often waiting.
Not to criticize.
Not to yell.
Not to tell them what they did wrong.
But to reassure them.
To tell them they did what they were supposed to do.
To tell them to be proud.
Think about that for a moment.
An eight-year-old learns that failing at something doesn’t make you a failure.
A child learns that when things don’t go your way, someone will be there to pick you up.
A teammate learns that another teammate’s success is something to celebrate.
And an entire group of young players learns that you don’t have to win every game to be a winner.
That is a hell of a lesson.
And perhaps one that a few adults could use a refresher course on.
We live in a world where too many people are angry.
Too many people are divided.
Too many people are looking for someone to blame.
Too many people have forgotten how powerful a simple act of encouragement can be.
Then you walk onto a baseball field and watch a group of eight-year-olds.
And suddenly, things don’t seem quite so bad.
Because these kids weren’t concerned about politics.
They weren’t concerned about social media.
They weren’t concerned about who was right or who was wrong.
They were concerned about their teammate getting on base.
They were concerned about cheering each other on.
They were concerned about winning.
And when they didn’t?
They kept playing.
They kept cheering.
They kept fighting.
They kept being a team.
The Northumberland Jacks didn’t win the provincial championship.
London did.
But if you think the Jacks walked away losers, you weren’t watching.
Because there are some victories that don’t show up on a scoreboard.
They learned how to fight.
They learned how to lose.
They learned how to support each other.
They learned how to celebrate each other.
And they learned that sometimes, you fall short of your goal — but you keep going.
That is winning.
Those eight-year-olds may forget the score of a game someday.
They may forget who hit what.
They may forget which inning something happened.
But I doubt they’ll forget this weekend.
They’ll remember the teammates beside them.
They’ll remember the coaches.
They’ll remember their parents screaming from the stands.
They’ll remember the excitement.
They’ll remember the disappointment.
And hopefully, they’ll remember something even more important.
They were part of something.
Something bigger than themselves.
Something called a team.
That’s what made this weekend so damn special.
Not the baseball.
Not the championship.
Not the weather.
The people.
The parents who gave up their weekends.
The coaches who gave their time.
The families who travelled.
The volunteers who made the tournament happen.
And most importantly, the kids who reminded all of us what sport is supposed to be about.
Competition, yes.
But also friendship.
Respect.
Encouragement.
Perseverance.
And heart.
So to every player on the Northumberland Jacks:
Hold your heads high.
You fought.
You competed.
You supported each other.
And you gave everyone watching something to be proud of.
You may not have a championship trophy sitting in your room tonight.
But you have something that may be worth far more.
You have memories.
You have friendships.
And you have learned lessons that will stay with you long after the baseball glove is put away.
And to the coaching staff — Rick Cromlish, Dave Throop, Josh Minifie, Steve Clarey and Willie Reyns — thank you.
Thank you for being there when the kids succeeded.
But more importantly, thank you for being there when they didn’t.
Thank you for wiping away the tears.
Thank you for the encouragement.
Thank you for teaching them that losing a baseball game doesn’t mean losing your pride.
And thank you for teaching them that when one teammate falls, the others pick them up.
Because that’s the kind of coaching that matters.
That’s the kind of lesson that lasts.
And maybe that’s why, as I left Legion Fields this weekend, I wasn’t thinking about the Gatineau balloons anymore.
I was thinking about a bunch of eight-year-olds playing baseball.
Kids who reminded me that there is still plenty of good in this world.
Kids who reminded me that sometimes the loudest cheers come from the smallest voices.
Kids who reminded me that you don’t have to win a championship to win the day.
And kids who reminded me that maybe — just maybe — the world has a bright future.
Thank you, Northumberland Jacks.
For the baseball.
For the memories.
For the heart.
But most of all, for the reminder of what a team — and a community — is supposed to look like.
That was one heck of a weekend.
Author: Pete Fisher
Has been a photojournalist for over 30-years and have been honoured to win numerous awards for photography and writing over the years. Best selling author for the book Highway of Heroes - True Patriot Love
