For the Love of the Game

June 5, 2013

I am at the ball fields - well, not literally this minute.  This time of year though, I spend on average about 26 hours at the baseball and/or softball diamonds each week.  With two kids in the sport, this equates to hubby and I splitting our time between fields and/or cities. This is four hours each kid for practices during the week, couple hours of game time on Friday night and a minimum of 8 hours each Saturday and Sunday.  Both kids play on very skilled teams so we always end up playing in the championship games on Sunday which means we wait often as much as we watch/play.

One would think I would have the whole ball field process down pat.  Ha - not!  Sunscreen is often forgotten to be applied, cleats are sometimes left in the wrong vehicle, bleachers chairs are brought when no bleachers exist, and bags are ALWAYS doused in dirt and grime and then dumped out on the carpet in the house!  In our haste to grab all the necessary equipment, uniforms and, for goodness sakes, children, we often forget snacks and are forced to eat concessions all weekend - trust me, "Yuck!" doesn't even begin to describe it.  If my kids and I have to consume even ONE more hotdog this month, I think we will combust.  I am waiting with bated breath for the sushi or noodle bar concessions to open – seriously, someone could make some coin here!  Juice bar, anyone??

And this season, it rains and rains and rains and rains every stinking game, it seems.  It’s as if the rain gods check the USSSA website for game times and mischievously open up the clouds.  Umbrellas are useless – like Iowa, ball fields are flat and open but unlike our vast-expanse state, ball fields have the “magic wind” factor.  There may be no wind at all at your house but the ball field down the street, a mere three blocks away will have hurricane-force gusts and the temperature will be at least 10 degrees cooler than your backyard.  There’s just something wrong about using a flannel & down blanket in the middle of June, isn’t there?  Again, someone get the wind turbine erected in left field!

So, why, then?   Why do I say yes, when my kids say “I want to play softball” or “I want to play baseball”?  Is it for me?  Heck NO!  If it was, they sure wouldn’t be playing.  If it were up to me, I’d gather all my softball and baseball parent friends and have Margaritas at Casa de King.  But this isn’t about me – it’s about the kids.  So why do they want to play?  They spend the past I-don't-know-how-many weekends at ballfields, play baseball until 1am on a Saturday night and until 10pm on a Sunday night in the same weekend, play a pick-up game Monday from noon until dark, watch Women’s College World Series softball all night on ESPN  and when it rains on Tuesday what are they doing? Yep, neighborhood baseball game. Don't kids ever tire of this sport?  Why do they play?

It certainly isn’t the trophies.  Neighborhood games rarely have trophies – only verbal honor.  But both kids’ competitive teams have earned every level of trophy out there.  And none of them are a Grammy- or Emmy-caliber prize, they are all just painted plastic.  While I have never seen an Emmy or Grammy in person, I am just assuming they are weighty and high-quality.  The interesting thing is that baseball trophies are much bigger than softball trophies.  See the photo as reference and this is just one example.  Both trophies were earned the same weekend.  The one on the left, made of clear plastic with a piece of paper glued to the front, is a 1st place “Champion” 12U softball trophy.  The thing could fly away in a birthday-cake-wish breath.  The one on the right, made of shiny gold painted plastic with a fairly heavy sand-filled base and intricate detail of a baseball player at bat, is a 2nd place “Runner Up” 9U baseball trophy.  

When my astute 12-year-old daughter asked “What the heck’s up with the huge 2nd place trophy!?!?  Mine’s first place and it’s a mini-me!,” we got to have a male-ego conversation.  Now, I don’t really know who decided on which trophies for each tournament, in all fairness it very well could have been all women deciding such things – but I doubt it.  You have to admit a psychologist would have a field day analyzing the implications on self-esteem for boys and girls when receiving these types of trophies sport after sport, tournament after tournament, year after year, especially if they have siblings that play similar sports.  Needless to say, we had some good belly laughs and I discovered that the “winning” part of the sport is the LAST benefit my daughter sees in softball.  She’s not all happy and peachy if her team loses, mind you, but we discovered in this conversation she doesn’t play for the actual win.

So, if not for the trophies why, then?  Why do kids play ball?  Well that’s the easiest part of the sport.  The team structure, the camaraderie, the learning, the life sport.  While my kids are shivering under blankets with hand warmers and hot cocoa, they’re laughing and having fun with their teammates.  While they are shielding dust from their eyes and hearing their coaches’ voice in their heads, they are making the 3rd-out catch in center field to finish the game.  While they are shaking rain from their hair, shielding the ball in their glove to keep it dry and blocking out the shouts from the crowd, they are pitching their best no-hitter.  While they are trembling nervously at home plate, taking the pitchers best strike, they listen to the coach and sacrifice bunt so their teammate on 3rd can score.  Maybe it doesn’t all happen like this every play of every game.  OK, we KNOW it doesn’t.  We, as parents, and kids, as players, sit or play through PAINFUL ball games – games where there are more errors than plays, games where you can get a drop-3rd-strike home-run, games where you can’t say “Good try!” enough, games where 9-year-olds throw helmets in the dugout because they strike out, games where you try your best and get tagged out stealing 3rd, games where you pray silently for the misery to be over.  But to kids it’s the opportunity for all the good stuff.  They can take all the yuck, nervousness, scariness and pain in the sport because it’s the hope and the possibility of making the game-winning play that drives them.  It’s the hope and the possibility of earning the RBI, finding green with the hit, pitching a no-hitter, throwing out someone at 2nd.  That’s the best part of baseball and softball – the possibility, the hope, it’s there at every inning in every game.  And kids never give up on hope.  Just watch a ballgame and see.  This is what is preparing them for life. Sure, they may never play softball past junior high or make the high school team, but the life lesson is already there.  I think sometimes we, as parents, have forgotten that.  As we have grown up, life got harder, messier and scarier and maybe a little more painful.  We have forgotten that there is hope and possibility for the good stuff out there - you just have to get through all the yuck to get it.  You just have to put your glove on and head out to the ballfield to find it.  That's where you will find me.