So after a week off for Memorial Day, my son has decided that his baseball team is the best thing ever. He was literally bouncing off the walls this afternoon in anticipation of tonight's practice and game. The trick is getting all parts of the uniform on the boy (why is your hat in the recycle bin?), gathering the bat, glove, water bottle, etc., packing snacks and crap to keep the little sister occupied, and feeding everyone dinner in time to be at the field by 5. We were doing well and were going to make it until I realized that, on the way to the field, we had to get past an office park at quittin' time. Rrrrr.
Nonetheless, here we are. Thank you to my wonderful husband for grilling up a steak for me to reheat for dinner. I don't get to watch as much of my son's baseball as I would like because I end up at the playground with the little one but it is all very cute. All 15 kids play the field at the same time and all 15 kids get up each inning (only 3, thank God). No strike outs. After 4(ish) good pitches from the coach the tee comes out. No score is kept. And fun is had by all. The kids are all so excited. The enthusiasm is so fabulous to watch and I am trying to soak it all in before they get too old and too serious about it all.
My favorite part is the bubblegum. The Raptors' have a fabulous coach (and a fabulous coach's wife - which we all know is equally as important) who has a pail o' Double Bubble. Before the start of the game, each player loads up because looking the part is just as important as any emerging athleticism. Now before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, the choking hazard at the average little league game is greater for the cheering fans than it is for the grassing pulling, pant fidgeting, nose picking players. For example, my son batted last today (15th for those not following along) so he got an automatic homerun (run those bases to end the inning - AWESOME!). By the time he reached third he was in a slow jog which quickly deteriorated to a skip and then the need to be reminded to touch home plate. There was more urgency in the regular 2nd inning sprint to the woods after a half inning pee-pee dance.
Those of you who know me, know how much I hate baseball. Living in Boston, you can lose friends by saying that but it is true. It is like watching paint dry. But when it is your own child and they are having such fun and being so nice to each other, it is a whole other story. His teammates are adorable and all the parents are great, especially those helping with the coaching, raffle, and sibling entertainment. Maybe somehow I will begin to appreciate the sport?
That might be pushing it.
14 miles tomorrow, another baseball game and then the DMB concert and Fenway. Maybe I will catch the bug there.
Thanks for reading. More later...