And yet for two hours, it was alive. Ten kids took turns swinging bats and chasing grounders, their laughter carrying beyond the chain-link fence. For most, it was just another summer morning. For some, it was the first time baseball had ever been theirs.
At the center of it all was Shannon Gunby, founder of the On Deck Circle. A teacher for 25 years at Wissahickon High School, Gunby has spent his life guiding young people. His résumé stretches from classrooms to dugouts to a stint with the Cal Ripken Sr. Foundation. But Mander Playground was the real proof of his mission.
“I grew up as the only minority on a lot of my teams,” he said. “But baseball gave me so much. I wanted to pass that feeling on to kids who might never get the chance.”
Gunby wasn’t alone. Alongside him were two coaching assistants, each giving their Saturday morning to pass the game forward. Joel Moore, now in his third year with the On Deck Circle, crouched low behind a plate scratched into the dirt, showing a young hitter how to keep his stance balanced. A catcher at Delaware State and Saint Peter’s, and once a Bishop McDevitt standout, Moore knew the mechanics. But what mattered was the teaching.
But the On Deck Circle doesn’t stop at baseball. Families leave with books and comics to read together. Snacks flow in through Amazon wish lists, often so many that kids take extras for siblings. In Kensington, closing day means an ice cream truck rolling to the curb.
Gunby’s vision stretches well beyond one park. He wants the On Deck Circle to expand further across Philadelphia and into places like Camden and Wilmington. To him, success isn’t only kids learning to swing. It’s when a parent who once said, “I can’t coach,” steps forward, learns alongside their children, and then inspires a neighbor to do the same. It’s when communities begin asking for the On Deck Circle to come to their field.
“Every kid deserves a chance to feel what baseball can give,” Gunby said. “That’s what we’re fighting for.”
And that’s why, even on a Saturday morning at Mander Playground, on a field with grass too high, basepaths invisible, and a boy taking his very first swing, baseball still found a way.
Gunby wasn’t alone. Alongside him were two coaching assistants, each giving their Saturday morning to pass the game forward. Joel Moore, now in his third year with the On Deck Circle, crouched low behind a plate scratched into the dirt, showing a young hitter how to keep his stance balanced. A catcher at Delaware State and Saint Peter’s, and once a Bishop McDevitt standout, Moore knew the mechanics. But what mattered was the teaching.
“Having the opportunity to make an impact in a young child’s life, the opportunity to actually change the trajectory of what they may do in the future, that’s what this is about,” Moore said. “Some of these kids have never played baseball before, so to give them the knowledge I’ve gained from all my years in the game, hopefully it sticks. I love giving back, and I love helping them learn this amazing sport.”
For Moore, baseball has always been a teacher.
“Because of the underlying skills that are applicable everywhere in life, like perseverance, teamwork, discipline,” he said. “Even with me, I didn’t realize how much it all helped until I got older, but I learned it while playing baseball. You fail, but you still have another at-bat coming up. So how are you going to focus on the next thing? You need each other to win, and you see that same thing in the workforce too.”
On the other side of the field, Devin Kelly, an outfielder with the Brahma Bulls of the Philadelphia Amateur Baseball League, tossed fly balls and offered encouragement. In his second year with the program, Kelly understood the assignment: create joy, build confidence, and make the field feel like it belonged to every child who stepped on it.
One of those children was ten-year-old Rasheed, who happened to be celebrating his birthday. He had never swung a bat before. Gunby showed him where to place his hands, how to set his feet, and where to keep his elbows. Then he backed up ten feet and lobbed a pitch. Rasheed swung, connected, and sent a liner bouncing toward the left side. His very first swing, on his birthday, was a hit. The smile that broke across his face was the very thing the On Deck Circle is chasing.
That’s the mission in action. The On Deck Circle, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, exists to give children moments like Rasheed’s — opportunities not just to learn baseball and softball, but to grow through them. Its aim is to provide quality, inclusive, and fun programming that reaches kids of all abilities and experience levels in underserved communities, using the game at the grassroots level to help them find their potential in both sport and life.
Watching from the side was David “Itchy” Lisby, a longtime youth coach with the North Philadelphia Camelots. For him, the meaning was obvious.
On the other side of the field, Devin Kelly, an outfielder with the Brahma Bulls of the Philadelphia Amateur Baseball League, tossed fly balls and offered encouragement. In his second year with the program, Kelly understood the assignment: create joy, build confidence, and make the field feel like it belonged to every child who stepped on it.
One of those children was ten-year-old Rasheed, who happened to be celebrating his birthday. He had never swung a bat before. Gunby showed him where to place his hands, how to set his feet, and where to keep his elbows. Then he backed up ten feet and lobbed a pitch. Rasheed swung, connected, and sent a liner bouncing toward the left side. His very first swing, on his birthday, was a hit. The smile that broke across his face was the very thing the On Deck Circle is chasing.
That’s the mission in action. The On Deck Circle, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, exists to give children moments like Rasheed’s — opportunities not just to learn baseball and softball, but to grow through them. Its aim is to provide quality, inclusive, and fun programming that reaches kids of all abilities and experience levels in underserved communities, using the game at the grassroots level to help them find their potential in both sport and life.
Watching from the side was David “Itchy” Lisby, a longtime youth coach with the North Philadelphia Camelots. For him, the meaning was obvious.
“I can’t say enough about programming like this here in North Philadelphia and what Shannon is doing,” Lisby said. “So good to see this going on out here, we need more of it. All these kids see the instant gratification of football or basketball, but I want them to see the value in baseball, too. We need more of this to bring the game back to these neighborhoods.”
Moments like that have become the signature of Gunby’s nonprofit. Since its founding nearly three years ago, the On Deck Circle has staged ten to fifteen events annually across Philadelphia. Some are after-school programs, others are evening sessions where kids simply “come and play.” In the summer, the group partners with rec centers, schools, and community organizations to bring baseball into neighborhoods where the game has faded. The formula is always deliberate: new equipment, shirts for every child, and coaches trained to work with first-timers. Parents notice.
Moments like that have become the signature of Gunby’s nonprofit. Since its founding nearly three years ago, the On Deck Circle has staged ten to fifteen events annually across Philadelphia. Some are after-school programs, others are evening sessions where kids simply “come and play.” In the summer, the group partners with rec centers, schools, and community organizations to bring baseball into neighborhoods where the game has faded. The formula is always deliberate: new equipment, shirts for every child, and coaches trained to work with first-timers. Parents notice.
“You’d be surprised how many parents say, ‘Thank you for treating our kids like they’re first-class,’” Gunby said. “Something as small as a new glove or a clean space makes them feel special.”
But the On Deck Circle doesn’t stop at baseball. Families leave with books and comics to read together. Snacks flow in through Amazon wish lists, often so many that kids take extras for siblings. In Kensington, closing day means an ice cream truck rolling to the curb.
“I’ll never forget watching families sit on benches after a session, reading the comics we gave them,” Gunby said. “It’s about connection. Baseball is the vehicle, but we’re building bonds.”
For Gunby, the people creating those bonds matter just as much as the activities. He insists it’s not the game that builds character, but the adults running it.
For Gunby, the people creating those bonds matter just as much as the activities. He insists it’s not the game that builds character, but the adults running it.
“It’s not the sport that builds character,” he said. “It’s the human being in charge. If a coach lets kids do whatever, the game itself hasn’t built anything.” That belief is why his staff remains small but carefully chosen. And it’s why he counts it a victory when a child arrives asking, “Is coach Joel here today?”
The game itself, in Gunby’s program, is built on Quick Ball, a stripped-down, fast-paced version of baseball that swaps heavy bats and hardballs for lightweight gear. It removes fear, keeps kids engaged, and ensures no one is stuck picking daffodils in right field.
“Throw hardballs at kids who’ve never played before, and it turns into survival,” Gunby said. “Quick Ball gives them confidence. It makes them want to come back.”
Gunby first encountered Quick Ball more than two decades ago through the Ripken Foundation. Today, he still sees it as one of the best entry points for baseball in communities where the game has slipped away.
The hurdles, of course, remain. Funding is always tight. Coaches who can blend patience with instruction are hard to find. And the facilities, like Mander, are too often neglected, overtaken by weeds and time. In a city where basketball and flag football dominate playgrounds, baseball still has to fight for space. But on this Saturday morning, with ten kids on the field and a boy named Rasheed lining his first hit on his birthday, none of that mattered.
The game itself, in Gunby’s program, is built on Quick Ball, a stripped-down, fast-paced version of baseball that swaps heavy bats and hardballs for lightweight gear. It removes fear, keeps kids engaged, and ensures no one is stuck picking daffodils in right field.
“Throw hardballs at kids who’ve never played before, and it turns into survival,” Gunby said. “Quick Ball gives them confidence. It makes them want to come back.”
Gunby first encountered Quick Ball more than two decades ago through the Ripken Foundation. Today, he still sees it as one of the best entry points for baseball in communities where the game has slipped away.
The hurdles, of course, remain. Funding is always tight. Coaches who can blend patience with instruction are hard to find. And the facilities, like Mander, are too often neglected, overtaken by weeds and time. In a city where basketball and flag football dominate playgrounds, baseball still has to fight for space. But on this Saturday morning, with ten kids on the field and a boy named Rasheed lining his first hit on his birthday, none of that mattered.
“Every kid deserves a chance to feel what baseball can give,” Gunby said. “That’s what we’re fighting for.”
And that’s why, even on a Saturday morning at Mander Playground, on a field with grass too high, basepaths invisible, and a boy taking his very first swing, baseball still found a way.
Learn more about On Deck Circle at www.ondeckcircle.org.
