Dreams of Diamond Glory in Simi Valley

Shagging ground balls, the boys of summer line up across Simi Valley’s Little League diamond at sunset and keep their rhythm to the crack of the bat.

Head up, mitt down, drop the butt and count the bounces-- catch.

If the horsehide meets the leather, each player whips the ball to home plate and steps back in line.

If the ball is misjudged, a bad hop or too fast to snag, he chases after it and flings it home, enduring helpful comments from coaches and teammates such as “Watch the ball go in your mitt there,” and “Keep your butt down !”

After 10 minutes of warm-ups, Coach Bud Hackbarth calls them in for intensive infield drills.

“C’mon in, you bums!” he bellows good-naturedly. “Let’s go.”

These 13-year-old boys are the cream of their age group, chosen by a vote of fellow players in the 486-member Simi Valley Little League to try for the brass ring--the world championship.

In the intricate summertime ritual of Little League playoffs, the Simi all-star team will face teams of 13-year-olds from the other Little Leagues around District 13--from the all-stars of Susanna Knolls’ 350-member league to the best of Conejo Valley’s 700-member league and teams in Oxnard, Moorpark, El Rio and Port Hueneme.

Like many, they dream of winning their way to the top, of becoming the best 14 junior-division players on the planet at the Little League World Championships in Williamsport, Pa.

Back in 1991, the Simi juniors team went as far as winning the District 13 championship, before Santa Paula’s all-stars knocked them off.

It is a big dream: “You’ve got 2 1/2 million kids in the world” who play Little League ball, said Earl Stone, administrator of District 13. “It’s the largest youth sports organization in the world.”

But on this shimmering hot practice field off Royal Avenue, visions of gold trophies dissolve and fade down to a single, grass-stained, red-stitched, scuffed white point of focus--the ball.

Does pitcher Mike McQuillen think of anything else on the mound?

“Just baseball,” he shrugs, eyes down, cleats scuffing the dirt before warming up. “Keeping my arm back and bringing it high.”

Now in his third year in Little League, Mike cannot imagine anything he would rather do with his time.

“I just like the sport. It’s something I’m good at,” he said. “It’s summer. There’s nothing to do; I’d probably be playing baseball.”

Mike pitches a few over the plate, some off center, some straight through the strike zone.

Andrew Hackbarth, the coach’s son, pops one to second base, where the baseman snags it in time to tag the runner out--a runner the coach now berates for failing to slide:

“Hey, I want you guys going down if it gets close,” Bud Hackbarth shouts. “Come on, let’s get dirty!”

Hackbarth said he sank $4,000 into a batting cage, pitcher’s mound and pitching machine for his back yard, where the team sometimes practices.

“I didn’t know anything about baseball until Andrew was 5, and he said he wanted to play,” Hackbarth said. “Now we eat, drink and sleep baseball.”

David Munoz, taller and lankier than his teammates, shoulders a bat to warm up.

“I like baseball, it’s more like a team sport,” said David, a left fielder. If he were not playing this summer in his first all-star tournament, he might be spending time with his friends, he said. But he considers it for only a few seconds--along with his .360 season average--before admitting, “Yeah, I’d rather be playing baseball.”

He pops one into short center field and digs, digs to first base, beating the ball to the bag.

Up next is Joe Baker, who says he has been playing team baseball and Little League for eight or nine years.

“My dad got me into it when I was young, and I like it,” he said, taking practice swings. “It’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s competitive.”

He plans to try out for the Royal High School team in his freshman year next fall, maybe playing on through college and--who knows--possibly the major leagues.

On deck, Marcus Alvarado keeps an eye on the ball, his head swiveling from the mound to the plate and back again as the pitcher offers up his best.

“It’s fun, it’s exciting,” he said, explaining his love for the sport and for his position--second base--which he called the most important on the field after the pitcher.

“You can’t stop watching the ball, ‘cause you might get hit,” Marcus said. “You have to worry if it’s coming to you, you have to back up the pitcher and sometimes first base.”

His mind never strays to anything else during play, Marcus said.

“I’m thinking about getting an out. I’ll think about the movies when I’m at the movies. When it’s time to play baseball, I’ll watch and play baseball.”

Practice ticks along rhythmically against a backdrop of haze-shrouded hills, to sounds punctuated by the clink of an aluminum bat, the scuffle of cleats on red dirt and the shouts of the teen-aged boys.

Over it drums a counterpoint of shouts from coach Hackbarth and the assistant coaches, who with a mix of encouragement and gentle threats goads the boys to work harder.

“C’mon, you guys,” Hackbarth warns after a lackluster play. “First game is against El Rio, you’re gonna stink up the league.”

Outside the diamond stands Ron Gray, fingers hooked through the chain-link fence as he watches his son at first base.

“I come out any time Chris is here, I really enjoy watching my son,” said Gray, a retired California Youth Authority officer.

“He’s come a long way,” Gray said, describing his son’s climb from balky, inexperienced outfielder four years ago to starting pitcher this year. “I’m very proud of him.”

Gray praised the league, which he played in back in 1965, because it fills the boys’ idle hours with something that encourages them to work hard, and may give them confidence to go on and work harder at life off the field.

“I asked him if he wanted to go out for other sports, Gray said. “He said, ‘Nope. Baseball’s my niche.’ ”