Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Teeball: Invasion of the Gnats



            When the rain started to come down rather heavily this evening, my spouse was convinced the teeball game was going to get rained out.  However, the rain that beat down on our windows and washed away all of my son’s sidewalk chalk art did not fall over the field that was only about ten miles north of us.  When we arrived at the field we were surprised to find everything dry – dry but extremely buggy.  Gnats invaded the field and harassed players, coaches and spectators.  At the start of the second inning, one of my players asked if he could play a position different than he had played in the first inning.  “Sure,” I readily agreed.  “Where would you like to play?” I asked, happy to put him wherever he wanted to go.  “I’d like to play somewhere that has no bugs,” he requested, his eyes shining with seriousness, his smile innocent.  But the bugs were everywhere.  There was no escaping them except in the car and if he wanted to play, the car was not an option.  So we all endured, swatting at the gnats while glancing at the sky to see if the dark clouds had caught up to us.  The weather forecast predicted storms around the starting time of the game, but I’m sure none of you will be surprised to know that the forecast was incorrect.

            My players have all improved over the course of the season.  None of them can catch a ball on a fly and most of them can’t throw very far, but they at least have a better sense of what they should be doing and how they should be doing it.  My son still loves to play first base even though he is yet to catch anything that is thrown to him.  One of these days, however, I suspect he will surprise me and when I least expect him to make a play, the ball will find its way into his glove.  In the second inning, I put him at short stop – my favorite position from back in the day when I used to play – but he strongly rebelled against the position.  He was not happy to be buried way in the back and to protest he intentionally turned his body towards third base, instead of home, when crouching down in the ready position.  Several times I told him to turn, twice I even repositioned his body for him, but my son is stubborn and if he objects to a specific set of directions he refuses to follow them.  While at short, one ball was hit directly to him.  I called his name and told him it was his play.  He quickly pulled himself out of his snit and ran after the ball.  One of the older boys (the one who in previous games tends to barrel over the little ones because he is bigger and faster) ignored me and he charged across the field racing my son to the ball.  My son got to the ball first, but the other boy fell to his knees and wrestled the ball out of my son’s hand and threw it to first base.  My son, annoyed and frustrated that the play had been stolen from him, took off his glove and threw it at his teammate.  Part of me couldn’t exactly blame him, he knew the play had been stolen from him and he wanted the other boy to know that he was angry and hurt. In the final inning, my son played on the pitcher’s mound – his second favorite position - and while in that position he did have the opportunity to make one play.  He still needs to work on his throwing and develop his arm muscles.  Maybe if he gains a bit of strength and improves his form he won’t feel compelled to run three quarters of the distance to first and only then – after the runner has arrived – make the throw.

            As for hitting, my son still hits much better off a gentle pitch than he does off a tee but at least he is hitting the ball, smacking it squarely to the pitcher’s mound each time.  Running is his favorite part of the game.  As soon as he takes off for first base a smile takes over his face.  But he is slow and I think it really does upset him that the other kids are faster.  In one of the innings he was standing on second when the final batter got up.  In teeball, the final batter always hits a homerun and all the kids get to circle the bases.  My son is often passed by the runner behind him and he does not like when that happens.  So, in order to prevent it from happening, he picked up second base and moved it about three feet closer to third base.  Smiling, he then got ready to run and was very dismayed when I told he him had to return the base to where it belonged.  As the kids cross home plate, they line up on the grass between third and home to cheer each other on and to slap the hands of their teammates as they run home to score.  My son also enjoys this very much and in the final inning he was so anxious to hand out high fives that on his way home from third he stopped running, joined his teammates on the sideline and held out his hand.  All I could do was shake my head and sigh since he completely ignored me when I told him to keep running.  I guess giving me a high five just wasn’t as exciting as giving them to his teammates.

            I’m sorry I have only one picture.  I think my spouse is getting tired of being the photographer.  Most of the time I take the pictures but, when it comes to teeball, I can’t play coach and photographer at the same time.



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