Parenting is The big Leagues

Posted By Blackfive

I was an assistant coach of my five year-old's Little League team this week.  Little Blackfive (LB) is the youngest and smallest player on the team.  A few months ago, I was surprised to learn that Little League (LL) has a group for 5-6 year olds.  I don't think I started playing LL and Cub Scout Baseball until I was at least 7.

LB is a decent hitter, somewhere in the middle of the group of six year olds, but has his challenges in fielding...mostly because he's either gardening or looking for comets when in left field.

If you're from the Midwest, then you know how rainy it's been the last few days.  I swear I heard Noah building an Ark in our neighborhood this weekend.  Our infield was a muddy mess.

So, LB's team takes the field first.  LB usually plays short stop or left field.  I usually  get to coach behind Third so I can keep an eye on him and the others on the left side. 

Side note:  Last week, he dug up a worm in left field and was very upset to leave it behind as the other team might squish it.  So when the inning was over, I HAD to put the worm in my coat pocket.  About week later I found it, *cough* a bit unresponsive, when I was fishing for keys.

Nice.

So, LB does okay at Short and, now, his team is up to bat.  He's number two in the lineup.  I'm coaching Third Base - basically to hi-five the kids when they get to Third, tell them to run Home when the ball is hit, ensure that they keep their helmet on, and to tie loose shoe laces while they stand on Third.

LB goes up to the plate, helmet way too big for his head, he can barely see out from under it.  I think of Spaceballs.

LB whacks the horsehide and gets on First. 

Nice.

Next batter hits a line drive and LB barely makes it to second...then I notice him jumping and dancing around.

Crap.  He's got to go to the bathroom...

We get a designated runner and LB goes on a tree while nearby 5th graders yell (over and over again) in unison, "That Boy's Killing Nature!".

Our turn at bat is over, and, for some reason of fairness, the coach decides that LB should play First Base.  I head back out to my spot behind Third, feeling helpless as hell, knowing that my son does not know how to play First and that he'll either get run over by a batter or hit with a ball.  I keep reminding myself that it's all about the love of the game and having fun and that the kids care more about the snacks at the end of the game than they do about winning the game.

LB is standing in about two inches of infield mud.  The first batter hits a nice grounder to the Short Stop.  LB catches the ball from Short and tries to move to First...and can't. 

He's stuck. 

But he keeps trying.  Finally, one shoe pops off, then the next...and he's racing to First through the mud in his socks.

LB doesn't make it in time.  Runner on First.   Next batter.  LB is not phased by missing an Out so much as intrigued at how the mud squishes between his toes.

This continues through seven or eight batters as LB cannot get to the bag in time, even in socks, to catch a runner and get him out. Second to last batter is up, hits a grounder to LB.  LB does the alligator and scoops it up, turns and races the runner to First.  Mud is flying, LB's head is down and little arms are pumping hard, the batter sees him racing and picks up speed.  They are running alongside each other.

Just tag him, Son.

I'm holding my breath.  Knowing he's going for the base and not the tag.

Come on, Son, run!

LB hits the bag first.  The First Base Coach calls "OUT!", the parents on the side line who'd been laughing at how cute LB was are now screaming and clapping.  LB turns and gives me a toothy grin with a thumb's up.  I return the thumbs up and smile back.

Damn, he's even cockier than me...gonna have to keep an eye on him.

Later, we're having icecream cones to celebrate his victories at bat and at First Base. 

Sitting across from me in his muddy socks and beaming, LB, with his tiny face covered in mud and chocolate (I can't tell which), declares, "Dad, this is the BEST day in my entire life!"

I tousel his hair and look him in the eye. "Me too, Son...me too."

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Comments

Parenting is The big Leagues

I was an assistant coach of my five year-old's Little League team this week.  Little Blackfive (LB) is the youngest and smallest player on the team.  A few months ago, I was surprised to learn that Little League (LL) has a group for 5-6 year olds.  I don't think I started playing LL and Cub Scout Baseball until I was at least 7.

LB is a decent hitter, somewhere in the middle of the group of six year olds, but has his challenges in fielding...mostly because he's either gardening or looking for comets when in left field.

If you're from the Midwest, then you know how rainy it's been the last few days.  I swear I heard Noah building an Ark in our neighborhood this weekend.  Our infield was a muddy mess.

So, LB's team takes the field first.  LB usually plays short stop or left field.  I usually  get to coach behind Third so I can keep an eye on him and the others on the left side. 

Side note:  Last week, he dug up a worm in left field and was very upset to leave it behind as the other team might squish it.  So when the inning was over, I HAD to put the worm in my coat pocket.  About week later I found it, *cough* a bit unresponsive, when I was fishing for keys.

Nice.

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