How major leaguers learned to love the Little League Classic

The itinerary for the Detroit Tigers called for the buses to leave for the airport at 8:30 a.m. Sunday, 45 minutes before the team flight departed for Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Their game is at 7 ET: the Little League Classic against the New York Yankees. This kind of schedule during this time of year, in what are referred to in baseball as the dog days of August, is something that generally causes players to roll their eyes wearily.

It’s a one-day trip to a small town — one not easy to reach — in the midst of the summer. It runs counter to the major league experience in more ways than one. But Joey Cora, the Tigers’ third-base coach, has experienced the Little League Classic twice already, including the inaugural game in 2017, and he has been assuring Detroit’s players that they are going to absolutely love it.

“Once you get there and you are around the kids, it gets you back to when you were a kid, on a field with your friends,” Cora said. “When you were a kid, you want to be there, in Williamsport, and you will feel that again. The guys are going to enjoy this.”

The Little League Classic and all of the events attached to it — the visits between the youngsters and the major leaguers — were designed for the benefit of the kids, who get to stand face-to-face and stare up at the likes of Aaron Judge this year, and in the past, Bryce Harper and Shohei Ohtani and Anthony Rizzo and Kris Bryant.

“They’re not asking you about your approach at the plate,” said the Arizona Diamondbacks‘ Josh Bell, who played for the Pittsburgh Pirates in Williamsport in 2017. “They’re just happy you’re there. They’re not betting on the games. They are actually rooting for their favorite team, and their favorite players.”

But in the end, the major leaguers seem to benefit as much or even more than the Little Leaguers. Because, Cora believes, that it’s a one-day reminder of why they fell in love with the game. “There’s no talk about swing decisions, or analytics, no coaches,” Cora said. “There’s nothing about money. You’re thinking: I remember when it was this fun.”

Players like Rizzo join the kids riding cardboard down a hill, sometimes flopping over at the base of it with laughter. Kids will ask the players about their shoes, their sunglasses, their hats; players ask the kids about their own fashion. Autographs are signed, pins are exchanged, stories shared. This weekend, some kids are bound to imitate Juan Soto‘s shuffle for him. They are all connected through baseball.

Cora says he is looking forward to seeing the team from Japan work out, to see the passion in what they do. The Tigers’ Andy Ibanez, born in Havana before he left Cuba, plans to visit with the team Sunday.

Javy Baez said he loves conversations with the Little Leaguers, many of whom sit with the pros to watch games early in the day. He remembers multiple questions about the swim move he used to elude tags, as well as how he drops quick tags. The coaches of the teams, Cora says, will ask questions about baseball, while the kids, he added with a laugh, “will ask anything.” Bell laughed as he remembered the interactions.

At night, when the Classic is played, at the ballpark that opened in 1926, the place is filled almost entirely with kids and their coaches. Fans, Bell reiterated. Every ball that’s hit in the air draws a sound of awe from the crowds — even the popups since they are major league popups, way beyond where the Little Leaguers are accustomed to seeing a ball rise. Hits are cheered. Outs are cheered. Everyone seems happy.

“It’s a breath of fresh air from the dog days for the players,” Bell said. “It was all special.”

For the big leaguers, the game has a different feel to it, because of what they experienced through the day, in their interactions. “They’re just throwing the ball around and playing,” Cora said of the earlier games. “You’re just out there having fun, the way it was when you were a kid.”

For teams in the Little League Classic, Bell said, the day is long — but so worth it. “I slept better after that day,” he said, “than I had slept all year.”

The Little Leaguers can dream of a day spent with big leaguers. The big leaguers might dream of days left behind, still missed.