Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Baseball, bugs and the book

What is it about youth sports that turns sane adults into people you don't even recognize? My 14 year old son is playing on a Babe Ruth baseball team for our small town. The team has really struggled this year. We didn't have enough players sign up to field two teams so we only have one team that is probably a bit larger than it should be. Every player plays in every game so playing times have been shortened for a lot of players - including my son.

At last night's game (another loss- sigh), a parent came up to the manager in the middle of the game and complained about her son's lack of playing time. She pulled him out of the dug out and complained for half of an inning. Did she really think that a long-time manager who is at every pratice and every game would listen to her when she has attended only one or two games all season? Did she really think that pissing the manager off would help her son get more playing time? I am not saying that I have agreed with everything the manager has done this season because I haven't. However, complaining during a game is not the answer. Several years ago, my son was complaining to me about his lack of playing time and he asked me to speak to his manager. I refused and told him that he needed to prove to the manager that he deserved to play more. It was a real "aha" moment for my son. He did take his game to the next level and the manager noticed and his playing time increased significantly.

The Babe Ruth baseball season is relatively short and this year the weather has not been great. We have been at a couple of games where it has been absolutely frigid. At last night's game, the weather was a great temperature. This meant, of course, that as soon as the sun went down, the bugs came out with a vengenance. It is hard to write in the scorer's book while you are slapping away the bugs!

How did a baseball-hating, unathletic mom end up being the official scorer for the Babe Ruth team? I have wondered that myself! I was never a fan of baseball when I was growing up even though my Dad was. I married a man who didn't like baseball and we never imagined that we would raise a baseball-loving, baseball-playing son. For the first several years that my son played baseball, we went to all the games and we enjoyed watching him and his friends play but we didn't really enjoy the game itself. However, as I got more involved on the Little League board, I started to learn more and more about baseball and my son got me to watch the Red Sox games with him. Fast Forward to now. I help out at all of the games by doing the book and getting the batters prepped to bat. I also let the manager and coaches know what the opposing batters have hit in prior at bats and in prior games so they can give a heads up to our players in the field. I figure that my Dad is up in heaven watching me and his namesake grandson and laughing. Here's to you, Pops. :)

1 comment:

  1. I'm not sure anything could make me think baseball is interesting, but I'm glad you like it! When Alex played, I was bored out of my mind. And cold. Or hot. And hungry. Or thirsty. And trying to figure out how to read a book without anybody noticing and thinking I'm a bad mommy.