After a few rough starts, cancelled games, and rainy and muddy fields, it looks as though Captain Distraction is getting into a pretty good groove of practice on Monday, games on Thursdays and Saturdays.
I don't usually go to practices on Mondays, that's daddy and son time. I imagine things happen at practice that would make most moms mad at their husbands, you know, for yelling? At the precious? And so it consists of the dads, and the sons.
Game times are a completely different story. I am constantly amused at games, because gosh darn if these kids are not the cutest freaking things playing baseball. Ever. Amen.
We have two main coaches, and then two dads that assist. My husband happens to be an assist coach. So before the game, one of the coaches hands each assist a sheet of paper that shows where each kid will be playing each inning. Each assist chooses an area of the field to help with (outfield or infield) and they take the kids on their list each inning.
So this is how it goes: Coach Chris yells out three boy's names. All three run to him like there's a clown with a knife chasing them, screaming for what position they want. "I want first, FIRST, FFFIIIIIIIRRRRRSSSSSTTTTTT!!!!" is what you hear usually at the infield coach.
Once they get to play at first, the chalk line, the grass, and the butterflies are all WAY more interesting than being in 'ready position'. Twirling, staring at your mitt, or checking out the kids on the playground behind left field are much easier tasks than say, focusing on the ball. I especially love the kids that will watch the ball go by them, and stare at the rest of their team as they try to cover that position. Like he's watching a movie, and thinking 'Heh. Check it out - they're all trying to get this kid out that just hit the ball right to me that I ignored and now he's running to - oh hey! Congrats, dude! You're safe!' All the while the sideline parents are yelling to the kid to GET! THE! BALL! AND GO! TO! FIRST! Ah, the joys of being an A-Ball mom.
My son, in particular, will take a pitch, and when he doesn't hit it, will look over at me. DON'T LOOK AT ME SON, LOOK AT THE BALL! For the LOVE!
I once told W that when he is playing in the field, and the ball is heading for him, that he needs to pretend that if he doesn't catch it, the world will end. He would stand in the same spot, and expect that the ball come to his glove like a moth to a flame. Yeah, it doesn't quite work like that. So once I told him this, his FEET started propelling him towards the ball. Miracle of miracles! He made a few great catches! One time he missed, losing the ball in the sun, and looked over at me and started making excuses. I simply said 'No excuses!' and he grinned and played on.
He trotted off the field and said, loudly, 'Mom! I catched the ball because it would blow up the world!" Fantastic, son. Please avoid using that phrase at the airport. Thanks.
He's quite the good hitter. Once he connects, he can drop the ball into short right field. He's very proud of himself when he makes it all the way home. And overall, we as parents are simply encouraging and uplifting. W told me the other day that he LOVES baseball. Let's hope he keeps that love alive.