Take Me Out Coach...

When I was 7 months pregnant with The Kid, growing BIGGER each day, I dreamt for him to one day be:
A. On the Illini Starting Five
B. A Longhorn Quarterback
C. An All-Star Baseball player
D. A Scientist

I guess, the answer can be all of the above. I was really pushing for the first three. This week, C became True. I was equally excited and a little, tiny bit ...ummmm... kinda annoyed.
I know! I am terrible!
I have a healthy, beautiful son with perfect legs which allow him to run; strong arms, which allow him to throw; and capable hands which allow him to catch (well, they should allow him to catch, but his poor attitude gets in the way)....and yet:
We are in the depths of the longest, rainiest, complainingest baseball season of my life.
Trust me, I have been a baseball fan for many years.

As always, Coach was the Coach. A mistake he may never make again. Coaching baseball to 12 boys aged 8-9, in the last weeks of school...is maybe not as fun, as one would imagine.



On our team (this summer and every summer) is Six.
And if we had a nickle, for every single time one of them uttered,
"I am not a baseball player, I am a scientist!"
Well, we would be VeRy wealthy. Wealthy enough to vacation, far away from muddy baseball fields.

To say our boys lacked interest, is an understatement.
Look very closely, at the following picture....
follow Six's eye line...



It is not, pointed directly at this...



Coach, desperately, trying to grab his attention with a pitch. Each child, receives 5 pitches, multiple that by a Gabillion and you would have the amount of pitches Coach, shook his hand and said,
"Keep your eye on the ball."

We had a trusty, Book keeper. Poor Two. As you can imagine, Pinto League Book Keeper, does not pay very well. About as well as Pinto League Coach or Pinto League Parent In Charge of Bored Little Sisters.



Each game, we had a large cheering section. The loss of our In Town field, to a massive Tornado, did not help attendence.
Grammy and Pop Pop stuck in there for nearly every single game. At first suppressing their urge to shout out instructions to The Kid. Later, they began barking orders at their leisure.
But...
He really WILL NOT PAY ATTENTION!!
I suppose, it's not like building a Robot.

Despite, his best efforts at mediocrity. The Kid's natural abilities kicked in some. He became a Hitter. Knocking down, Double after Double.
He fancied himself a second baseman. Making a few plays, each game. We'll pretend, his temperament was at a satisfactory level.
Possibly, having his father coach him, may not be conducive to a great Father/Son relationship.



Tonight, will be the Second Half to what will possibly be their last regular season game. (Following a shocking rain delay last night.) Unless, by some miracle they win, prolonging Coach's torture and sending them into the championship.
Not to worry, we still have several more practices for All Star weekend.
Of course, falling on The Bride's Big Wedding Weekend.
Gosh knows, we had nothing else going on.

Congrats, The Kid!
I am proud of my All-Star.
Now, for all that is Good and Holy...
pay attention and catch the Dang Ball!
Love you.