Fall ball season in review

Perhaps there is nothing more exciting about being a parent than having a son involved in a fall little league baseball team, or “fall ball.” You get to race out to the ball fields after work at break neck speed, so that you don’t miss the first pitch. Once you get there, you get to kick back in your chair in the brisk chill of an autumn evening—the kind of chill that leaves you yearning for the warmth of a heated car. And, did I mention the nutritious array of snacks available at the concession stand? Since you’re not getting home until almost eight o’clock, you might as well have a well-balanced dinner of a hot dog, nachos with cheese, and a ring pop.

This year Matthew was on a coach-pitch team. This is just one step above tee-ball, so we are really at the basic level here. Nevertheless, young Matthew had a great season and a lot of fun. Here were some of the “highlights” from my perspective:

1. One night, as I walked from my car to the field, I overheard a mom giving a stern talk to her (approximately) seven year old son. In a harsh tone, she said, “You had better bring your ‘A’ game tonight!” ‘A’ game? I didn’t want to interrupt, but does a seven year old even know what an ‘A’ game is? Most of the younger boys are still ducking out of the way when a fly ball is hit to them. Besides, I don’t think it’s even humanly possible to have an ‘A’ game at anything until about age fifteen.

2. In one game, the other team hit the ball really well, and scored a lot of runs. We did not. While walking to the car after the game, I was informed that that team had only lost one game all year. That’s pretty good, I thought, considering that we don’t keep score in this league.

3. One boy on Matthew’s team experienced a monumental breakthrough before an early season game. The boy was having extreme difficulty swinging the bat—he looked pitifully awkward. The coach took him out for some special instruction, and after a few minutes, realized that the boy is actually left-handed! He ended up getting a few hits over the course of the season.

4. And finally, the best news of the whole season: It rained on the day that my turn came up for working at the concession stand! In our league, parents usually have to take one turn per season. I hate it, because I usually end up getting reprimanded by some parent that is “in charge” because I didn’t thaw out enough soft pretzels, or I undercharged someone for that bubble gum that is supposed to look like chewing tobacco or something like that. It is difficult to remember everything when you don’t do it that often. Plus, I’ll confess, since I don’t like it, I seldom bring my ‘A’ game to the effort. (By the way, why is there no outrage over selling bubble gum to children that looks like chewing tobacco? Doesn’t this fall somewhere in the same realm as kids bringing toy guns to school?)

5. Oh, actually, one more thing. As always, every kid got a trophy. In my entire childhood, where I played sports year-round for almost a decade, I got a grand total of three trophies. Three. And I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t pay for them. My sons each had about a dozen before their eighth birthdays, based on the fact that they participated, and because each parent threw in seven bucks. Did I mention I suffer from something known as Sarcastic Parent Syndrome? I think I’m having another attack.