Saw this sign the other day on an empty playing field, one amid many empty playing fields. It’s not the best weather, admittedly, winter dreariness. It’s not the greatest day for ball. But what happened to the days when kids would, on their own accord, round up their neighbors, grab their gloves, one or two decent balls with the stitches still intact and not too much scuffing on the leather, find a bat, a few plates or hats or whatever for bases, and make an afternoon of it?
Now the choices we have, as parents, are a). Being our childrens’ athletic/entertainment coordinators b). Enrolling them in expensive and often overly-structured competitive sports programs, or c). Condemning them to idleness and video games, locked safely away in our suburban distopias.
This sign made me sad. It’s NQR. I wish I had a cure for it.