Over the many years traveling up and down Route 15, it would be impossible for me to count the countless times I have driven past Clyde Peeling’s Reptiland. Most times I drive by, I’ve noticed numerous cars in the parking lot and say to myself, ‘someday I’ve got to stop in., but I never have.
Ten miles to the north, on the busy highway, thousands of cars pass by Little League Baseball’s World Series complex daily. I would venture to say many of those drivers saw the Little League signage and thought ‘someday I’ve got to stop in,’ but never have!
Throughout Lycoming County and the surrounding area, the populous is aware of the influx of thousands of Little League fans who will be making a pilgrimage past these very same venues in the next twelve days — only they will stop and visit!
Since the advent of the Little League World Series in 1947, the end of August has put Williamsport on the world map. Despite my regard for statistical information, I have no idea how to calculate the number of area residents who may have thought ‘someday I’ve got to go there’ but never have. My guess is it is a significant number.
Any time a big event comes to any city or town, there are disruptions that the locals complain about — too much traffic, crowded restaurants and bars, causing changes in daily routines. There are sure to be folks who remember that the popular Mark Restaurant, once located on the site of the current Dairy Queen in South Williamsport, would close during the World Series so as not to upset its regular customers.
For me, except for the years I spent in Texas at college and in the Air Force, the Little League World Series holds a very special place in my heart. Yes, I love baseball, but from the vantage spots I have viewed the spectacle (Little League’s Central Region Director, print media, and radio broadcasting since 2001), this Disneyland of youth baseball has provided memories and thrills that could fill several books if I took the time to write it all down.
While the ‘someday I’ve got to stop in’ crowd is real, the ‘I finally made it to Williamsport’ reality is an emotion that must be experienced and can’t properly be defined.
During my years on the Little League staff, one of my duties was to escort the Central Region champions from the regional site in the Midwest to Williamsport. Each of those trips was memorable in its own right, but the 1975 regional champions from Davenport Southeast, Iowa, may top the list.
The Regional Tournament was played in the small town of Baxter Springs, Kansas. In the championship game, Davenport was matched up against Tallmadge, Ohio, which at that time had made two trips to the World Series. The game was tied after the regulation six innings. Davenport pushed across a run in the top of the seventh and needed just three outs to head to Williamsport.
Just as the bottom of the seventh inning was to begin, I saw the left field umpire waving his arms, calling a timeout. He was talking with the Davenport left fielder. Then the two of them walked to the third base umpire. Then the trio walked to talk with the home plate umpire.
From the press box, I was concerned the player was ill. I walked to the screen behind home plate as the crowd grew concerned. I was told the boy wasn’t sick but had to go to the bathroom. The Tallmadge coaches were a bit agitated as I asked the league president to take the boy to the bathroom. What happened next was one of those “Ripley Believe It or Not” moments.
The president headed the player to the restroom, which was already filled to capacity, with a line out the door. Acting on the spur of the moment, the president took the player into the nearby tractor shed, closed the door, handed the boy a Pepsi-Cola cup, telling him, “Here, this is the best I can do.”
The player finished his business and ran back out to left field with a smile on his face and the appreciative applause of the crowd. Three outs later, Davenport Little League was on its way to Williamsport.
On Sunday, excitement surrounded the team on its first day at the Series complex. On the morning of the second day, I visited the team in their cabin, and the mood was completely different. The team had been on the road for more than two weeks, and their coach, Don Crouch, had been informed by his employer that he had to be back at work on Tuesday. Very early that morning, Crouch had left to return to Iowa.
The team’s first game was Wednesday. As I entered their cabin to wish them well, I was greeted with laughter and excitement. Coach Crouch was back!
He explained that heading back to Iowa, the madder he got. Tuesday, he walked into work and told his boss he quit. He then went home, caught a plane, and returned to the World Series, getting there just a few hours before his team’s game.
Explaining his actions, he said he liked his job, but the World Series was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he was not going to miss.
The Davenport team finished third in the 1975 World Series, and the fairytale had a happy ending for Crouch. The publicity back home resulted in several job offers coming his way!
So, for all you, ‘someday I’ve got to stop inners’ out there — take the time to do it. Coach Crouch would tell you it’s worth your time.
