Waiting their turn

My first thought on observing these boys patiently waiting for the game on the field to end so that their team could begin play was, “But for the passing of several decades, there I sit.” The only difference being that in my day bats were made of wood and there was no chain link fence separating us from the field.  If a stray foul ball ricocheted off of one of us as it flew through the dugout, we just rubbed a little dirt on it and got back in the game.