Combine that with the expense of playing youth baseball...

Tell me about it. No, don't bother. I already know. Instead, tell me how I explain it to my 12-year-old who loves baseball that will probably never play it again once this Little League season ends.

"Sorry, son, but I just don't have the ten grand or so a year necessary to enable you to play."

And I don't even want to try to explain to him how even if we had the money, he'd have to give ongoing figurative blow jobs to coaches for the next six years to even have a chance to have an at-bat.

In many areas, $10K per year for youth baseball is not unusual.

When I grew up, we played Little League, then Babe Ruth League baseball. That took care of ordinary players, and the more exceptional players would eventually move on to high school teams and American Legion. Cost was within the reach of most families with children who wanted to play. And if you wanted to play, you could play. You might not start, but you could find a team and get some playing time every game.

Nowadays, Little Leagues seem to be fairly prevalent, and in some areas Babe Ruth continues to thrive, both are being eroded by the onset of the indepent tournament and touring teams.

Those independent teams can be very expensive, with fees ranging between $1000 - $2000 per team. And often kids need to do two or three teams per year -- there might be a late June/Early July tournament team, then a second in late July/August, then a third late August. Combine the registration fees with travel costs for three teams in a row each year and $10K gets hit pretty quickly.

Meanwhile, the more affordable recreational leagues and Babe Ruth leagues wither away because there aren't enough players to make it worthwhile. And the culture around the independent teams is very exclusionary, with the exclusiveness produced not only by the cost of entry but by an attitude by coaches and families that either you're all in, all the way, or you have no shot at all. If you haven't participated in the expensive off-season clinics and signed up for memberships at batting academies run by the coaches and tournament organizers, there is no point in even trying out. Suck up or fuck off is the basic attitude. Can't afford all three tournament seasons? Too bad. Don't bother to try out for just one, no matter how good you are.

And sportsmanship? That's for other people. It's a pretty word thrown around by coaches and organizers, but what it's really about is winning at all costs and sucking up to an entrenched power structure of adults who care more about their own power than supporting kids who want learn and play the game. Fun? That's for losers.

High school has become a practice league for indepedent teams. Yeah, maybe you can get on a high school team, but if you're not an indy insider, you'll sit all season -- no matter how good you are.

I see a Medal ceremony in Pace's future...

Men are big babies.

I mean, seriously. For the first time in history we don't get to just trample everything around us and spray our cum anywhere we want. And how do too many of us respond? By pouting like Mikey boy there.

Man up, boy. You're embarrassing those of us who aren't afraid to acknowledge women as our equals or, all too often, our betters.

Someone tell Paris Hilton that Tehran is a Caribbean resort ...

Win.

The difference between Pete Rose in the 70s and in 1989 is that in 1989 he was no longer necessary. He was just as much an egotistical asshole when he was part of the Big Red Machine as he was during his final collapse into self-delusion and gambling addiction in the late 80s, but by then he done all he could as a player and baseball star and had moved into a new role: object of self-righteous fury of derision. But he was the same man he always was.

The hipocrasy surrounding Rose is astounding. You loved him until you didn't need him anymore, then you used him as a prop for your own sanctimony.

You did your best. Now go clear some brush.

I read every entry of HTWW, but rarely comment. Good stuff, well written, and very engaging.

Funny ad, and speaking as a man, um. Yes, the percentages are accurate. Don't sweat it, Tracy. Most men ARE pigs.

Right on my desk, right in front of me! An old fashioned church key bottle opener. I keep it here in case my son brings me a beer but forgets to open it for me. Yay!

I also have a church key in the garage on the shelf with my screwdrivers, and one in the dining room on the bookshelf, and one, of course, in the utensil drawer in the kitch. Right in the front.

There isn't one in my bedroom yet, but give me time. Soon enough. . . soon enough. . .

Until my phone can brew coffee, rub my shoulders, and give me a blow job, it's effectively incomplete.