Little League, Big Trouble

Images of innocence saturate the Little League World Series. Kids from Anytown, USA, mastering the American Pastime better than the kids from any other neighborhood.

That’s the spin on every pitch.

The World Series is easily the most visible youth sports event. Games early in the week are televised on ESPN and millions watch the final game on ABC.

No wonder Little League officials were horrified by the eligibility scandal involving two Woodland Hills players tainting their big show in Williamsport, Pa.

“There is no doubt we were very concerned,” Little League spokesman Lance Van Auken said. “Little League has become more proactive in the area of eligibility since 1992 when the team from the Philippines was disqualified.

“At the district level we can’t check one million kids. But when we get to higher levels of play, it becomes incumbent upon us to ensure that teams are totally eligible.”

Woodland Hills learned the hard way before last week’s sectional tournament when Junior Garcia--the team’s best player--and Garrett Feig were disqualified. The coach of an Encino team charged that the players did not live within Woodland Hills boundaries and Little League agreed, rejecting several appeals and successfully fighting Woodland Hills in Superior court.

The scrutiny of Woodland Hills led to eligibility questions regarding Thousand Oaks, the team that eliminated Woodland Hills in sectional play.

Thousand Oaks lost its first two games in the division tournament, leaving followers of both teams to reflect on the events that brought so much turmoil.

Road to Williamsport

The term refers to a magical journey punctuated by the pop of bubble gum and the crack of the bat leading to the promised land in Pennsylvania.

It has evolved into a marketing slogan, scripted on the back of official Little League caps.

But the rules of the road are increasingly broken by teams focused on the destination and its fringe benefits: Interviews by Steve Garvey and Jim Palmer, banner headlines and color pictures, a seat next to Jay Leno, maybe even a visit to the White House.

“It doesn’t affect the kids so much, it affects the parents,” said Mel Helitzer, professor of sports administration at Ohio University. “The problem comes with the fierce intent to win at all costs. Everybody involved--managers, parents, sponsors--their need to win is so much greater than it was years ago.”

Especially in this neck of the woods.

Three years ago Woodland Hills gave Northridge a tough battle in district play. Northridge went on to play in the World Series final and gain a place in Little League lore as the Earthquake Kids.

Last year Thousand Oaks gave Moorpark a tough battle in district play. Moorpark advanced to the World Series, drawing inspiration from its “Angel in the Outfield,” Joel Burchfield, a Moorpark player who drowned before the season.

They were teams whose good stories generated more attention than any band of 12-year-old ballplayers probably merits, natural disasters and supernatural phenomenon notwithstanding.

This year, folks in Woodland Hills and Thousand Oaks had identical thoughts: It’s our turn.

Wrong. And not only because the teams didn’t get close to the World Series. The positive life lessons learned by participating in Little League are lost when striving for the World Series becomes as important to the adults involved as it is to the kids.

“All of a sudden it’s not a bunch of kids getting together to enjoy themselves,” said Michael Clark, a Michigan State professor who specializes in the study of youth sports. “It runs the risk of becoming all-consuming, especially for the adults. The parents are a worse problem than they ever have been before, more confrontational with the coaches, more demanding of the kids.

“I’ve seen people with very good intentions get a little more involved and a little more involved and the next thing you know they are doing the wrong things.”

For a parent, what’s to gain?

Parents of the Northridge and Moorpark teams say the answer is double-edged. The euphoria of watching your child excel day in and day out is eventually tempered by the shock of realizing you’ve racked up thousands of dollars in travel expenses.

Bounds of Reason

Although they are separated by 25 miles, Woodland Hills and Thousand Oaks are next-door neighbors as far as Little League is concerned.

Their boundaries connect because there are no Little Leagues in between, fueling a spirited rivalry that began long before last week.

Two years ago when these boys were 10, Thousand Oaks defeated Woodland Hills in a best-of-three sectional series that included several ejections of coaches and parents.

Four years ago, Thousand Oaks raised questions about the eligibility of Woodland Hills 12-year-old Kevin Howard, a prodigious talent who the following season moved to the Thousand Oaks league and led the team to the 13-year-old World Series championship.

Preparations for this year’s all-star run were two years in the making. Players within league boundaries who played in PONY baseball programs were actively recruited.

Woodland Hills and Thousand Oaks administrators worked overtime to ensure that the eligibility of each player was cleared by Little League’s Western Region headquarters in San Bernardino.

This was done in the cases of Garcia and Feig, Woodland Hills administrators said. And it was done in the cases of Cody Cipriano and Luke Salas, Thousand Oaks players whose eligibility eventually was questioned.

Youngsters living in West Hills, Calabasas, Agoura Hills and Westlake Village play in well-established PONY leagues in those cities. Why would a talented 12-year-old leave a perfectly good PONY league to play in a Little League miles away?

The answers are like carrots dangling in front of a pony: ABC, ESPN, Garvey, Leno, et al.

Anybody remember who won last year’s PONY 12-year-old World Series?

Woodland Hills and Thousand Oaks don’t agree on their boundaries, but it’s safe to say each is able to recruit from an enormous area.

To ensure that no individual league gets so large it dwarfs the competition, Little League Headquarters long ago established a guideline: When a community is greater than 20,000 people, the league should divide in two.

Woodland Hills and Thousand Oaks share a population closer to 200,000 than 20,000. What gives?

Little League spokesman Van Auken offers an explanation:

“We understand there are competing (PONY) programs involved and that it isn’t feasible for a league to be limited to 20,000 and still operate. Across the country we have leagues in retirement communities and college towns where the population is great but the number of kids is not.

“Our rule of thumb is that if a league has more than 10 major teams or a ratio of greater than 2-1 between minor and major teams of kids ages 9-12, it is time to split.”

Neither Woodland Hills nor Thousand Oaks fields more than 10 major teams or has more than 20 minor teams.

Little League is less clear on addressing eligibility questions similar to that raised about Garcia.

Did he and his father move to Woodland Hills specifically so he could play in the Little League?

Operated almost exclusively by volunteers, Little League has no investigative staff. Eligibility issues are left to local leagues, becoming of concern to national administrators only when protests are made.

“Little League says you can’t turn away a player who shows proof of residency,” said Tim Heyne, the Thousand Oaks president. “We have people every year who live in Simi Valley and Moorpark try to register in our league, and we direct them back to their proper league. But the person who really wants to get into your league will find a way to get into your league.”

One solution would be to follow the lead of school districts that have scrapped boundaries in favor of open enrollment. That would allow players to sign up for any league they choose.

Little League opposes the idea. The best little neighborhood team in America heroically surviving the Road to Williamsport is far more appealing--and marketable--than a super team recruited from all over waltzing down the same road.

“Open boundaries would upset the competitive balance,” Van Auken said. “Leagues with the best resources would attract the best players. We’d never again get an urban league from a disadvantaged area to the World Series like we did in the ‘70s and ‘80s when Belmont Heights, Fla., had players like Gary Sheffield and Derek Bell and made it four times.”

Eliminating the World Series or simply toning down its commercialization isn’t likely to happen, either.

“It might curtail cheating but it would also ruin the excitement of the sport,” Helitzer said. “It’s still a great movement.”

Repairing the Image

Woodland Hills Sunrise has more than 500 players, most of whom never play on all-star teams. It’s those kids, and their families, that concern Rich Sperber, who will succeed Geri Szabo as the league’s president next year.

“The troubling aspect of this is that all these families are wondering whether we cheated,” Sperber said.

In many ways, Woodland Hills is a progressive league. Administrators have developed a mission statement, a code of conduct for players, and a four-year plan to improve coaches and players. Managers are supplied handbooks and a video that outlines drills and practice goals.

Several issues concerning Woodland Hills’ relationship with other leagues will be on the agenda this fall.

Leagues in the Valley under the direction of District 40 administrator Merle Sanders will discuss ways to enforce eligibility regulations without resorting to the last-minute tactics Encino employed in bringing Garcia’s situation to light.

Sanders and District 13 administrator Earl Stone, whose responsibility includes Thousand Oaks, will try to come to agreement on exactly where the boundaries of Woodland Hills and Thousand Oaks meet.

And next spring, leagues all over the world once again will rev up their engines and take to the Road to Williamsport.

Clark, the Michigan State professor, points to studies that show kids dropping out of sports as they get older and hopes lessons learned this summer aren’t forgotten.

“The bottom line is, everybody involved lost a sense of proportion,” he said. “This is a kid’s game and it’s supposed to be fun. The young athletes are supposed to learn. They are supposed to be getting positive lessons about how to behave.”

Staff writer David Wharton contributed to this story.