God save little league baseball

I've been party to innumerable dysfunctional organizations in my lifetime -- even shared one with my fellow blogger here -- but I'm not sure anything compares to this well-intentioned, but hopelessly inept little league baseball program I've latched onto.

I don't even know where to begin, so I'll start with the latest fiasco.

We're hosting a tournament next month and as of this writing 36 teams have signed up. It wasn't my bad idea, but I stepped up as tournament director and have dedicated myself to making it a success.

With soccer and wrestling tournaments in town that same weekend, hotel rooms are scarce. Our vice president, who also happens to coach my son's team, made arrangements to block off 10 rooms at a hotel on the outskirts of town.

So I was troubled Friday morning when the coach of one of the visiting teams that I had steered toward this hotel informed me that our rooms had been canceled. In response to my urgent inquiry, coach tells me he canceled the reservations because we would have had to pay for any rooms that weren't rented.

Are you kidding me?!!!! I shouldn't have been surprised though. This is the same coach who last year repeatedly signaled slow runners on second base to steal third with two outs, the game on the line, and good hitters at the plate.

And he's not even the least competent member of our board. That would be the treasurer, a man so elected because of his success as a well-digging businessman. The very definition of luddite, he doesn't do e-mail. When I questioned him about my inability to fax him information about the organization, he explained the his wife was on the computer and I should fax before 8 a.m. or after 6 p.m.

Just yesterday he explained to me in excruciating detail his plans for improving the high school field. Soon after, my eyes glazed over, he handed me our organization's checkbook. Keep in mind, he's the treasurer and I'm the secretary.

He won't be available for next weekend's scheduling meeting, he explained, because he's escorting his ADD grandson with a rocket arm but shit for brains to Phoenix for a baseball camp. He invited my son along, you know, depending on what he wanted to do with the sport.

Fortunately, I didn't need the $700 entry fee as an excuse. My son will be in school, where he belongs. Sure I'd love to see him sign a major league baseball contract someday, but I'm not putting all of my eggs in that basket.

In order to stand the test of time, this organization will need brighter minds than those who currently rule the roost.