admin Nearly 10,000 fans graced the stands in San Bernardino during the Little League Western Championship Tournament against Hawaii in the summer of 1992, and most of them had traveled from Long Beach to cheer for the 12-year-olds All-Stars out of Stearns Park. State flags waved in the stands as everyone held their breath, wondering which team would make it to the World Series.
But the road wasn’t going to be easy. The Long Beach nine were facing Hawaii pitcher Lanakila Niles, who stood at 6 feet tall and threw an 85-mph fastball. At the top of the 6th inning – the last inning – our local boys began to confront the possibility of defeat. After weeks of qualifying tournaments, it had all come down to this. The game’s last inning, with Long Beach down 2-1.
With just three outs left, the team was sending to bat its 9-1-2 hitters. Manager Larry Lewis could sense the deflation in team morale and tried to encourage the kids that they still had a chance.
But then came the 1st out. Followed by the 2nd. And soon, Ryan Beaver was standing at the plate, down 1-2 in the count.
“The kids were really moaning and groaning at that point,” says Lewis. “I kept trying to rally them, saying that as long as we have one out left, one strike left, we still have a chance. But they weren’t listening too well.”
Then all of the sudden, Beaver hits a ball deep to right. The center fielder jumps up to catch the ball, squeezes the glove and crashes into the fence. The crowd holds their breath. Did he catch it?
Then they see the outfield fans throw their hands in the air. Long Beach fans are 15 rows deep in right center and they’re all cheering like wild, because they can see the ball top the fence. Homerun!
Next to the plate is Sean Burroughs, the team’s season-long Phenom. Now the cards were turned, the momentum completely switched. The big 11-year-old walks up aggressively and starts pounding his bat hard on the plate. Six times. The fans go wild because they know what it means. It’s a ritual Sean used infrequently, only every dozen games or so, a ritual by which he channeled the homerun gods
