Sidelines Kalani Simpson

Summer starts on the diamond

It was summertime.

The coach hit grounders and long fly balls.

A kid's hat came off.

The music played.

It was summertime.

THE FAMILIES CAME, dragging coolers and setting up tents. Small kids played in the grass.

Out of the loudspeaker, songs.

"Ku'u Home O Kahalu'u": "I remember days when we were younger ..."

It was summertime.

"I've got so much honey, the bees envy me ..."

Summertime.

COACHES WENT OVER lineups. Kids made circles with their shoulders and arms. Windmills.

They played catch, the soothing rhythm of back and forth, ball hitting glove.

A plane flew overhead.

Flags blew.

"Where da shade?" Uncle said.

No more.

It was summertime.

JOE GARAGIOLA'S VOICE. Tobacco is not a part of Little League baseball. Thank you.

More voices. More families came. More folding chairs.

Shredded ti leaves in the breeze.

Handshakes, the old style, macho kine.

Chili and rice.

More voices. Noise. The game was starting at last.

Baseball.

Summertime.

PEARL CITY. AIEA. Hilo. Kihei. Kaneohe.

West Oahu, the world champs -- no autographs, no assemblies, no parades.

No Brent Musberger here. Just summertime.

The dugout. Shade under an iron roof, breeze whispering through the dugout fence. Bats lined up, leaning, all in a row. Waiting. Waiting to be called.

Beaned, and sprinting down the line. A shortstop, faking the throw to first, catching the lead runner in a rundown off third base.

Another, going deep into the hole, sliding, spinning, one-hopping a throw. A spectacular out.

Summertime.

The wind was blowing out, and the ball followed. Gone.

Moms Row exploded, all of them jumped and cheered and went crazy, the way only Little League moms can.

AWAY FROM THE action, at yesterday's first round of the Juniors (13-14) Little League state tournament, sprinklers sprinkled on Kapolei High School's football field.

A small boy sat on his skateboard at the top of a slope, his eyes dancing. He let go, and rode. It was summertime.

It was summertime.