Protest wearing a cup

That's because your boys were raised in this "wrap the kids in bubble wrap so they don't get hurt" mentality. Back then, we never wore those in baseball. There was maybe one kid on the team that would actually wear one. And he was usually made fun of for taking it too seriously.

I never liked wearing one back in the 70's when I played. The catcher was the only player to always wear one. They would try every year to make all players wear them but never tried to enforce it. I never wanted to wear one when I pitched because it was uncomfortable and you were always having to adjust it after each pitch. Never needed it or got hit there in 8 years I played.

Baseball 101 today: major league. (Mark 7/14) many infielders do not wear one because they believe it hinders their play, outfielders no way. Catchers absolutely. If you see a play with a bounced pitch that ends up w/ a catcher falling over it most likely hit him in that certain area in between. These modern day cups can stop large pieces of shrapnil(?). Why ? because this is their life and cups be dammed. NFL players the same. The chances of harm to that area are worth the risk if it makes them more agile/ better players and helps them be more successful. Google "third baseman Mariners no cup" I forget his name but great reference point of what is happening on the field as of this post

thanx


Edit: Name is Beltre

My son didn't want to wear one at first, but I told him it's better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it. Later one of his friends got nailed on the nuts with a line drive and was down for the count for five minutes. I never had to remind him again.

Back then most kids didn't use seat belts, bike helmets or suntan lotion.

I played baseball with my friends, but didn't join little league. If I played organized baseball I probably would have worn a cup. I once got hit in the crotch by a pitched ball. It hit the frank, not the beans, but still hurt really bad.

We used to stand up in the back of the pickup, leaning against the cab with our .22s ready to shoot any varmints that ran across the road. When we rode inside, there were no seatbelts. My dad would just throw out his arm to hold us back if he had to stop fast. The dashboard was steel. If anybody bashed their skull on it, we'd just hose off the blood. We played full-contact tackle football on asphalt with no pads or helmets. Kindergartners walked to school and back, and our parents didn't applaud when we took a crap. My weekly allowance was a buck-fifty, but a pack of Kents was only fifty cents. It was a great time to be a kid.