I was kicking back in front of the boob tube the other day when a glimpse of action from this year’s Little League World Series flashed across the screen.

I was sitting in front of the TV because the view from behind is nothing to write home about. 

At any rate, I investigated the tournament action on-line and discovered it ended last week.  In case, like me, you missed it this year, Lake Mary, Florida defeated Taipei, Taiwan 2-1 on a walk-off bunt. 

Two area teams made it to the 2024 LLWS, Washington and South Dakota, but no Montana or Wyoming or Idaho teams this year. 

I usually watch at least a few games of the tournament every year, but since I decided to economize and save a few bucks on my TV costs, I no longer get any channels that carried any of the games. 

The bummer needle ran into the red zone on the bummer meter. 

But it got me thinking about my days in Little League, you know, AKA the Jurassic Era. We used to chase the dinosaurs off the field, which was risky to say the least. 

In so doing, we prehistoric Little Leaguers learned you don’t have to be faster than a dinosaur, just faster than the guy running next to you. 

I got a million of them. I’ll be here all week, don’t forget to tip your waiters. 

I played for Midland Bank of the Billings Little League back in the 60s, 1960s, just to be clear. 

We had a decent team and were lucky enough to play games at Lisa Field, named for the Lisa family, which owned Lisa Bakery, a long-time Billings staple and supplier of toast. The family had a big, two-story house alongside the right field fence.  Break a window and you win $10. Really. 

It was a great feeling to put on the yellow-sleeved uniform, complete with yellow striped baseball socks and a yellow cap with a big M in front. 

I always thought those hats should change color like the big neon tower atop the Midland Bank building did to mark what the day’s temperature was going to be. 

“When the tower is emerald green, no change in temperature is foreseen; when the tower is red as fire, the temperature will go higher...bad poetry but strangely effective weather forecasting. 

We Midland bankers were a .500 ball club as I remember, but how could be compete against the bullies from Security Bank, or Q’s Sport Shop who had kids who could throw heat? 

We had a few solid bats.  I was the kind of kid who either hit one over the fence or made the humiliating walk back to the bench after striking out, yet again. 

One of the Lisa Leaguers who came several years before me was a Billings hero and legend, Dave McNally, he of Baltimore Orioles/World Series pitching fame. 

There were no McNally’s on our team. Years later, when I had the opportunity to coach in the Kirland, Washington Little League system, I saw some examples of the kind of kids we had on the Midland Bank squad. 

One time, in the middle of a game I was coaching, the opposing batter hit a screaming line drive to our right fielder. 

Unnoticed by anyone was the fact the outfielder was sitting on the grass with his back to home plate, picking dandelions from the field. 

It was an inside-the-park, weed inspired home run. 

Fortunately, like everything else in this world, things change.  The Little Leaguers of today are way better.  Some of them should be carded for their IDs or sent home to shave. 

But despite the morphic changes to the game, it is still Little League.  And to me, it is the easiest league of players to root for. 

Even the kids picking dandelions.