Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Teeball: My Son the Flirt



            This evening my son wore his jester hat to the teeball game.  From the moment he arrived he was a little clown.  Part of that might have had something to do with the fact that he tends to be a big flirt and there is only one girl on the team and six boys.  The sillier he acted, the more the girl laughed and the more she laughed the more ridiculous he became.  It was cute to watch, when it wasn’t frustrating.  During warm-ups – the two of them having been the first two to arrive – he was completely incapable of paying attention to me and the ball I was throwing to him.  Each time I threw the ball to the girl, he lunged after it, she tripped over him or the grass or her own feet and the both of them would lie in a heap laughing as if it was the most hilarious thing either of them had ever done.  And when I threw the ball to my son, it invariably bounced passed him because he was too occupied making faces at the girl.  The girl, by the way, is two years older than him and at least four inches – if not more – taller.  

            The flirting continued when the game started, and in the second inning I made the huge mistake of putting my son at the left wing position while letting the girl play on the pitcher’s mound.  Of course, keeping them completely separated would have been a challenge considering only five kids showed up.  But letting them stand less than ten feet apart was not an intelligent move on my part.  Instead of keeping his eye on the batter, he kept his eye on the girl, doing whatever it took – digging in the dirt, dancing, making faces - to get her to laugh.  After several batters, I could take it no longer.  I walked up to my son and explained that if he didn’t keep his eyes on the batter I’d have to move him to the outfield – and no one ever plays the outfield since no one hits that hard – where he could stand next to me.  Following my reprimand, his concentration improved, however, his eyes did steal an occasional glance toward the pitcher’s mound.

            My son did not see too much action in the field tonight, but he did have a few plays.  He is getting much better at throwing the ball once he claims possession of it, but we do have to work on his strength and accuracy which will hopefully develop over time.  Every time he makes a play, as soon as the ball lands, either in the dirt or grass (rarely near the first baseman) my son turns to me smiling, waiting for my praise which I am always quick to bestow upon him.  And once I say nice play, give him a thumbs up or a high five he always beams, pleased that he has done something well.  Of all my players – and I admit he is my son so I may be overly partial – he has the cutest, and perhaps best, ready stance.  When he’s not busy trying to catch the girl’s attention, he bends his knees properly and gets his glove on the ground ready to make a play.  It really is precious to see.

            In the final inning he was playing second base where very little ever happens.  Giving up on anything ever getting hit to him, he turned his attention to the gnats that once again had invaded the field.  Holding his finger out, a perfect perch for an insect, he was extremely excited when a gnat landed.  He was so excited that he had to run off the field to show both of his parents and I could not persuade him to return to the game until the gnat had been properly scrutinized. 

            Base running - always my favorite part of the game - is the thing that seems to trip my son up the most.  In the second inning, he stopped dead in his tracks on the way to first and squatted down to pick clump of the chalk they use to line the field.  Holding it in his fingers – while I was screaming at him to run to first - he studied it intently as if it might have been a nugget of gold.  He ignored my pleas to run and only tossed the chalk aside when he lost interest.  By then, the first baseman had already chased down a throw and lobbed it in to me so I could put it back on the tee. When my son finally made it to second, he took off his helmet, and when the batter hit the ball, he didn’t run right away because he was too busy examining the inside of his helmet.  At that point, I’d have loved to have examined the inside of his head – ugh.  

            By far, the cutest moment of the game occurred when the final batter of the other team hit the ball.  Once my son realized he had no chance of making the play – the ball had been hit to the opposite side of the field - he threw off his glove, sprinted off the field (seriously, where is that speed when he is running the bases), stood next to the third base line - somewhere between third and home - and held out his hand to cheer on and give a high five to the opposing players as they ran home.  Two kids slapped his hand but the third kid completely ignored his gesture which totally devastated him.  He couldn’t understand why his enthusiasm and sportsmanship had not been returned.  





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