There was never any question that I would face challenges as a T-ball coach. I just expected most of them would revolve around baseball.

Little did I know that George Lucas would be the biggest challenge.

Forget about teaching kids the fundamentals of baseball. The real key is getting them to forget about George Lucas, or, more accurately, the "Star Wars" phenomenon he spawned.

Don't get me wrong, I love "Star Wars" as much as anybody. Well, maybe not as much as those 40-year-olds who dress up as Yoda at Comic-Con. But I enjoyed the movies, at least the original three.

But I never figured on "Star Wars" fanaticism becoming an issue at T-ball, especially since this isn't 1977.

The problem isn't that there are 12 kids on the Escondido National Little League T-ball Padres who are obsessed with "Star Wars." The problem is there's one kid who acts like Darth Vader, and he's doing his best to recruit 11 Luke Skywalkers to the Dark Side.

Naturally, that one kid is my son.

You might wonder how a 6-year-old can be obsessed with a movie made more than 30 years ago. Well, it seems Lucas has infiltrated our schools and used his Jedi mind tricks on our youth. Before starting kindergarten nine months ago, my son didn't know George Lucas from George Costanza. Today, he can diagram the entire Skywalker family tree.

And now it's his mission in life to recruit others to his very own rebel alliance.

At the beginning of the season, I let him indulge in his "Star Wars" obsession while we waited for his teammates to arrive for practice. Summoning his inner dork, he practiced his Jedi moves by using his glove in place of a lightsaber. Despite his pleadings, I wasn't crazy enough to let him use a bat to do it. Besides, I was glad to see him getting some use out of his glove. It's not like he uses it in the field.

Unfortunately, as soon as one of his teammates arrived, he went from Jedi-in-training to Sith overlord in charge of recruiting. It usually started with a casual Darth Maul or Qui-Gon Jinn reference to see if he could get a positive reaction from one of his teammates. Before long, it was like watching Olivier perform Shakespeare as he did his best James Earl Jones impression while reciting passages from one of the movies.

Eventually, I had to implement a rule for my son banning all Star Wars-speak and lightsaber maneuvers until after practices and games. But the ban didn't come before he found a kindred spirit in teammate Mickey Chew.

Mickey is a year younger than my son and finishing up his final year of preschool, but he's like the Mel Kiper Jr. of the "Star Wars" world. He can break down the differences between Stormtroopers and Sandtroopers like Kiper talking about an offensive lineman from North Dakota State. Mickey even brings his "Star Wars" gear to practice and games on occasion so he and my son can work on their technique afterward.

At one recent game, Mickey worked in a few subtle lightsaber moves as he jogged to the plate to bat.

"Use the Force," I said when he arrived at the tee to hit.

Mickey didn't crack even the slightest hint of a smile. I'd say it's because he takes his baseball very seriously, but I'm pretty sure it's because he takes his "Star Wars" very seriously.

I didn't learn my lesson about making "Star Wars" cracks and gave it another shot during our game Saturday. We were in the field and Mickey was looking bored, so I suggested he use the Force like General Grievous. It was a major faux pas on my part. Mickey admonished me for thinking General Grievous had the power to use the Force, then completed the lesson by giving me a list of the "Star Wars" characters who have the ability to use it. Fortunately, there weren't a lot of baseballs being hit in our direction.

For the most part, my son and Mickey have learned to keep their Jedi maneuvers limited to after games and practices. Sure, they need the occasional reminder, but I really don't mind that my son has developed such a fondness for the "Star Wars" universe. However, it hasn't stopped me from warning him that such an intense fascination with "Star Wars" could have serious implications later in life -- namely trying to get a date. Or, worse, he might still be living with me when he's 40.

But if it makes him happy, I don't see any harm in it. His sister might disagree given the number of lightsaber shots to the head she's taken. I loved baseball cards as a kid -- still do, to my wife's chagrin -- so what's a few hundred "Star Wars" action figures lying around the house waiting to be stepped on in the middle of the night?

Besides, it could always be worse. He could be a Trekkie.

Staff writer Eric Breier will chronicle his experience as a T-ball manager with occasional columns throughout the season. He can be reached at ebreier@nctimes.com.