The little league baseball that I participated in as a kid (circa 10 years old, 1977) was in an era not nearly as bad as today for bunghole parents. But we lived in a small town without tons of sponsors, and there was one family that was the main facilitator and organizer and brought in many resources for our motley league; there was little doubt the league could have been conducted without the effort they put forth. And that was appreciated. But it was mainly done so they could showcase the kids of this family. The dad/coach of the team was a maniac. He screamed at his players (and the players of the other teams). His son was always the pitcher, and his dad/coach screamed constantly at him to knock down the batters who “crowded the plate”. I got hit several times by the kid (luckily never in the head). We had a girl on our team (the first in our town to ever play; she was pretty brave for 1977) and this guy ordered the pitcher (again, aloud from the bench) to bean her as well. “luckily” he was pretty wild and “only” got her in the small of her back, when she twisted away.
Since the family was so instrumental to the league, plus e we were a fairly gritty WPA mill town, nothing was ever done to challenge this guy. Our sole ump was some sort of relative of this guy and never said a word. One time a coach of an opposing team (not my team that day) did yell something back, and this guy strode across the field, directly over the mound, while play was going on, toward the opposing manager screaming and daring him to “make something of it”. They had to be separated by the freaking kids and some other parents! What a nightmare he was (and his wife nearly as bad, also screaming from the stands). Still frosts me to this day.
When I played, the league recruited an
alcoholic pool cleaner and former minor-league
baseball pitcher, to coach. We were a youth baseball league
expansion team of misfit players formed as a settlement to a lawsuit brought against the league for excluding such players from other teams. Shunned by the more competitive teams (and competitive parents and coaches), we were the outsiders, and the least talented team in the league. Out coach had to
forfeit the opening game after we allowed 26 runs without recording an out.
With our entire team wanting to quit due to the humiliation of our first loss, our coach recruited two unlikely prospects: a sharp-tongued girl named Amanda, a skilled pitcher (trained by our coach when she was younger) and the 11-year-old daughter of one of our coach's ex-girlfriends; and a local cigarette-smoking, loan-sharking,
Harley-Davidson-riding troublemaker named Kelly, who also happened to be the best athlete in the area, but had been excluded from playing in the past by league officials. With those two on board, the team started gaining more confidence, and we started winning games.
Eventually, we made it to the championship game opposite the top-notch Yankees, who were coached by an aggressive, competitive jerk. As the game progressed, tensions rose between the teams and the coaches, as the coaches engaged in ruthless behavior toward each other and the players in order to win the game. When the opposing coach hit his own son, the pitcher, for ignoring orders by intentionally throwing at another child's head, our coach realized that he, too, had placed too much emphasis on winning, and put in his benchwarmers to allow everyone to play. Despite our coach's move, our team nearly won the game. Our coach then gave us beer which we then sprayed on each other with a field celebration as if we had won.
The following year, our coach decided to leave so they hired Kelly's father to coach the team. Amanda moved to England to live with her aunt and become an equestrian. We recruited a new pitcher that tried to imitate all the best MLB pitchers but eventually found his own style. We won the championship and got a chance to play the best team in Japan in the Houston Astrodome. I'll never forget that. We were playing between games of an Astro's doubleheader and our game was running long. The Astros tried to stop our game so that they could play theirs but our coach led the crowd in a chant of "let them play". Even the Astro players were chanting. Finally they let us play and we won!! The next year we went to Japan, but I'll spare you the details on that.