Pink Collar

Pink Collar showed up at my 5-year-old son’s Little League game this afternoon.

He was a man, early-to-mid 40s, dark hair, skinny, Mets hat. He wore a pink shirt, with the collar up.

I am a rookie Little League father, and Pink Collar was my debut experience with inane, obnoxious baseball dads. He barked at the kids, gave awful advice, spewed out words and phrases that 99 percent of 5-year olds would never understand. Clearly, the man thought he was Joe Torre, dispensing wisdom of vital importance. But he was anything but Torre. He was a dolt dad, probably on leave for the weekend from his finance job, taking out his frustrations on a bunch of kids just trying to have fun.

I kept waiting for him to bark at my son … waiting and waiting and waiting. I wanted the opportunity to pull him aside and say, “You’re free to ruin your son’s Little League experience—but don’t ruin my son’s.” Alas, he kept his distance.

There’s always next week.

5 thoughts on “Pink Collar”

  1. My brother was on a little league team and I hated when my mom forced me to watch his games mainly because of the parents there. I was only 12 at the time but even then, I realized overzealous little league parents were lame and pathetic. They were loud, annoying, and way too controlling.

  2. Please fly me out next time you play his sons team. I will sit right next to him and when he opens his mouth, I promise you, he won’t feel a thing.

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