Why all the Taney whining?

THE WORLD IS filled with controversies, and not all of them are equally compelling, much less legitimate. Having a bully pulpit carries with it the obligation to choose, wisely, the subject of rumination.

This week, I could write about endangered Christians in the Middle East. I could praise the courage of intrepid journalists and fearless health-care workers. I could lament both the death of a black teenager and the vigilante actions of those who use his death as a pretext for riots. I could criticize the president for being tone-deaf, Congress for being impotent yet arrogant, Richard Dawkins for being a eugenicist who thinks it's OK to use abortion to rid society of "defectives."

But others have done this, powerfully and beautifully. This week, I'll hunker down in my humble corner of pundit real estate and talk about something close to home, something that touched Philadelphia but in some ways has implications for everyone who has - or loves - children.

The City of Brotherly Love just threw a parade for some wonderful kids who are unique individuals cherished by their families but who, collectively, have come to be known as the Taney Dragons. Or, simply, "Taney." Before I get to the part where the heavens opened and a controversy of contrivance rained down upon Philadelphian heads, let me take a moment to give those kids their due.

The Taney Dragons are an inner-city Little League team that, despite the description, does not mean they are necessarily deprived. Some of the players come from solidly middle-class homes and attend private schools. The tag "inner city" in this case just means city dwellers, not suburbanites.

And yet, there is something special about this team that derives from its city pedigree: a sense of gritty, throwback style, reminiscent of the fondness we have for Connie Mack Stadium and sweltering summer days. At a time when so many of us live outside of city limits yet call ourselves "Philadelphians" (my hand is raised), there is a welcome, honorable purity in kids who really do call the city home.

Beyond this, there is the genuine humility of these boys and one girl, a lovely, unusual quality of wonder and awe at how far they traveled together. The complete lack of swagger in the Taney crew is so rare among today's young athletes who seem to think that arrogance and excellence are synonyms.

So this team, with that amazingly graceful young girl of a pitcher and her loyal teammates, stole the hearts of even the most jaded sportswriters. They elicited a few grumbles from the cantankerous elders who didn't think Little League should get the attention reserved for bloated professional teams that reward our devotion with mediocrity. But overall, the reception given to the Taney Dragons was warm and proprietary.

That is, of course, until some started stirring up those inevitable summer controversies to fill the empty, humid hours.

When the news broke that Philadelphia was going to throw the team a parade even though it didn't make the championship round in Williamsport, a lot of people got their knickers in a twist.

There was the general thought that you don't throw a big, institutional party for people who haven't fully earned it, especially when it involves spending money you don't have and especially when the money you don't have would be better spent (assuming you had it, which you don't) on educating kids instead of showering them with confetti.

I have to admit, I bought into the whole "we're poor, we can't afford it, move along" approach. I also thought, and still think, that throwing a parade for winning third or fourth place is like celebrating your half birthday: a bit sad.

But while I was entrenched in these feelings of superiority, I started hearing some really mean-spirited things from people on my side of the philosophical divide, things that began to sound an awful lot like accusations of mediocrity for a group of children who had, after all, won a state and then a regional championship.

Despite what some people expressed in offended tones, this was not about giving a trophy to everyone and patting ourselves on the back for doing it. That usually happens when you have less talented, less engaged kids whining loudly enough about the world's unfairness that the adults in the universe sign on for the guilt trip tour to placate the sensitive little cupcakes.

That was anything but the case with Taney. Those players showed more moxie, stamina, talent and maturity than athletes (and civilians) twice their age. They handled defeat with style and grace. And they certainly didn't whine about not winning the brass ring.

If anything, we were the ones, desperate for an antidote to the professional butt-whippings served up by the Sixers, Phillies, Flyers and to a somewhat lesser extent Eagles, who latched onto the Taney Happy Juggernaut, and when it didn't pull into Championship Station, some of us started demanding a refund of our tickets.

But that had nothing to do with the kids. Maybe a parade was a little over the top, from an economic standpoint. Maybe we were throwing it for ourselves, people who did nothing but watch. Maybe we were still and forever excorcising the ghosts of that team, 50 years ago, that broke our hearts while we watched helpless from the sidelines.

But the kids earned the back slaps, high-fives and municipal hugs just the same. They had major league hearts.

Email: cflowers1961@gmail.com