Another loss of innocence
By Ferd Lewis
Advertiser Columnist
Half the attraction of watching the Little League World Series has always been that it has represented a disappearing ideal.
Between the youthful exuberance of the players and the bucolic surroundings of the stadium in South Williamsport, Pa., there was a palpable feeling of something resembling one of the last pure states of organized baseball.
No labor disputes, "juiced" baseballs, or greedy players with pay-me-or-trade-me attitudes. Just a bunch of kids happy to be playing what is, after all, a kid's game. What could be simpler than that?
Never mind that some of the look was cultivated for the increasingly intrusive television cameras. Or, that, thanks to over-involved adults and their misplaced priorities, from time to time, even the Little League World Series has had a scandal or two.
Until this year, we were at least left with an illusion of innocence and sportsmanship. But no longer is there even much of that to cling to.
In the aftermath of one of the most controversial series ever, there are two dark clouds that continue to hang over this one, neither of which portend anything good.
Either Danny Almonte, the hard-throwing star of this series, had a doctored birth certificate and was two years older than the 12-year olds he was dominating from the mound, or a bunch of parents and others have engaged in a slimy witch hunt in attempts to discredit Almonte and his Bronx teammates.
Either way, it is going to be hard to look at this event the same way again.
If assertions and documents purporting to show Almonte to be 14 years old are correct — and the Little League says it is beginning an investigation — then you have a player, his family and who knows how many others trying to pull a fast one. Faster even than his 75 mph fastball that ESPN raved about.
What does the Little League do then? Inspect future participants for evidence of shaving? Order a surprise search of their wallets to see which ones might be packing drivers licenses?
Then there's the matter of what happens if Almonte really is just 12 years old, the possessor of rare talent rather than a bogus birth certificate. What does it say about a group of Staten Island and New Jersey parents who, to the tune of $10,000, financed a Nixon-like dirt-digging mission by private investigators?
Is the operative philosophy then to be: If our kids can't throw a fastball past you then we'll sling mud on you?
In a day when there are suggestions Cal Ripken Jr. was served up a silver platter gopher ball in the All-Star Game and Dale Earnhardt Jr. was allowed to win the Pepsi 400, cynicism has become part of the times in sports.
For one week a year, the Little League World Series was supposed to be a rare refuge from that, not a numbing continuation.
