His day at The Show

He got the call innocuously enough. I was tapping away at the keys, navel-deep in the daily do, when an e-mail came in from the tee-ball commissioner. A kid in the Sevens League, the next link up the Little League Food Chain, had broken his arm roller-blading; would Robert like to sit in and play with the bigger kids?

I thought, Robert would murder his grandmother in order to sit in and play with the bigger kids.

Just the same, I figured I'd officially run the idea past him before I pimped him upward. Predictably, the response was: "Dad, I sooo want to do this!" Awesome, I thought. All the fun and challenge of taking actual pitches, from an actual Zooka. And no need for geronticide.

Robert has been jonesing for this moment ever since his first tee-ball game, when he learned that no one makes an out. In the first inning a kid hit a grounder to him, and he threw over to first base. The first baseman dropped it, kicked it into right field, collided with the right fielder, picked it up, and had run halfway to the pitcher's mound before the chorus of "RUN TO FIRST!" took hold. And the batter was still out by about 20 feet because he'd stopped to watch a squirrel climb the backstop. Despite this, the boy was escorted to the bag and patted on the head for a job well done, and Robert looked at me like his birthday had just been canceled.

As we walked to the field, Robert yipped and jumped like a terrier, telling me how cool it would be to play a real game, with a real score. As we neared the field, though, he saw his tee-ball team on the other diamond, about to make up last weekend's rainout, and his nerves took over. He was suddenly aware that he's only six and he's never played with older kids before and this is TOTALLY DUMB, DAD!

I told him we could easily just walk across the way and join his team like nothing ever happened, if he wanted. He thought about it for an interminable two seconds (while my brain shouted ZOOKA! ZOOKA! ZOOKA! to itself), then walked gingerly to the near dugout and sat by himself, a black hat among blues, cleats drumming against the bench supports.

I took a moment to swallow my heart.

What happened after that didn't really matter. (Two-for-three with a strikeout and an RBI single that got wedged under the Zooka.) The kid acknowledged his fear, and he tried. I remember I had a similar chance when I was eight. I got to pitch my first game for the Ray's Lunch Phillies, and even though I'd studied the look of a major league pitcher, I had no idea how to throw the ball for a strike. So I walked three guys in a row, and when I finally got one over the plate this planetoid of a child smashed it for a grand slam. I was so mortified I pretended I'd hurt my arm and spent the rest of the game pouting at the end of the bench.

With luck, the line of cowardice stops here.

Comments

[Brenda]

Thanks for the Zooka link. I'm a girl. I have girls. I had no idea. OBVIOUSLY that is the draw of playing a real game.

You are right that it didn't matter how it turned out. The fact that he wanted to go, and have a REAL game, with REAL outs and a REAL score is what is important.

If the tiny little bit of cowardice isn't already gone, it will be soon.

[Kizz]

I don't know, that sounds like a darned good first game to me made better by the fact that he got nervous and he played through it. Lucky boy to get his footing so soon. Lucky dad to get to see it.

[dot]

Congrats to him for doing a great job! Glad he had the experience...

[tracey]

Good for him! Sometimes the whole "everybody wins" thing is more frustrating than having to just DEAL with the upset of losing and then getting on with life.

[Jen]

Good for Robert! BTW, our LL has outs for T-ball, technically, although some wussy managers don't do it. One of the other coaches always asks ours timidly if we count outs and the answer is always "Hell, Yes!" Please. They're supposed to be learning the rules. Fortunately, all the parents on our team are on board with counting outs.

[Papa Bradstein]

Nicely played all around. Is anything harder than watching our kids struggle? Then again, nothing is more rewarding than watching them succeed.

[You can call me, 'Sir']

Courage, it seems, always begins with sports. I remember my first two experiences with curve balls; one curved and the other didn't (ouch). I eventually learned how to see them and subsequently punish the pitcher for his daring. It was a subtle lesson in dealing with life's curve balls, which tend to hit you more often than they actually curve.

[Helen]

Robert is a good one.

[Derek]

That is great and props to Robert for sticking it out and giving it his best to play with the older kids.

We're in our first season where they actually keep score and count W/L, unfortunately our son broke his wrist about two weeks ago ending his season.

[Alyson]

I've been a lurker on your blog for a while and simply couldn't stay mute any longer. I've been involved in sports for a long time (playing, coaching, working in the golf industry and getting my masters in sport psych) and I had to say that I wish that all kids who play sports were as supportive and understanding as you are with your sons. Instead of bullying, yelling or putting down your son for being scared, you allowed for him to prove to himself that he COULD do it and that it was okay to be nervous and insecure but that you can move past it. Kudos to you. (Not to mention that as a new mom to my first son, any stories about "big kids" that pulls on the heart strings tends to just pull mine right out!)

[Exception]

Facing ones fears is an accomplishment within itself. What a great story and a great kid! He must feel very good inside! I love it when my daughter succeeds; but, my heart swells all the more when she steps up and faces her fears head on.

Happy early father's day!