|So here's what we're gonna do: I'm going to put this ball down |
my pants and you guys just start running in random directions.
I'm pretty sure that's how baseball is played. Ready? Go Team!
Let me take a step back. When Finn's friend Reid (pictured at right with ball, soon to be inserted in pants) 's dad asked me if I wanted to sign Finn up for coach-pitch little league this year, I was stumped. After the Great Tee-Ball Debacle of 2012, I was:
A) Unsure that I would have any interest in watching baseball in the pouring rain
B) Unsure that Finn would have any real interest in playing baseball in the pouring rain
C) Did I mention that they start playing little league in Seattle in March when it's still pouring rain?
The answer is "all of the above." However, factoring in the motivation that Reid and Finn's other best school buddy Bennett (also pictured above) would bring, along with my overwhelming desire that Finn do something other than play Angry Birds Star Wars and/or beg to "watch something" on every single device in the house ("What about Mommie's third generation iPod?"), finished by my completely unrealistic hope that he's the next Mike Trout, led me to dust off the poncho & prepare for weekends on the sidelines in the rain for the next couple of months.
But it was not to be.
Finn IS playing baseball - that part is happening.
I'm just not on the sidelines. It turns out, I'm a coach.
After years of aggressive disinterest in actually participating in any of Finn's events or activities, I got unlucky and signed my son up for a team that needed coaches - and whose primary coach was Bennett's dad, Charlie. What kind of base-hole would I be if I told him I couldn't coach, while I still watched every practice & game from the sidelines?
And so here we are at Week 1 of the West Seattle Tide's preseason schedule. Practice went well today. It rained. Finn complained a lot about how cold his hands were, flashing me back to 2012. But once I went to good ol' promise-ice-cream, we were good. We all survived. Finn didn't get terribly hurt (which is good, since I didn't buy him the required cup). And I'm excited to announce that I'm a baseball coach.
Thank god that Charlie attended a coaching seminar and knew what to do. I ended up exhausted from leading the kids in runs around the field and from shagging flies. Some of these kids can CRUSH the ball. At age 7.
Not Finn. He's not even sure which base is first base. Or that there is a "first" base.
But we'll get there.
On another note, Edie has a word. It's the same word that Finn had. It's "ball", but it's pronounced like a drunk puking on the sidewalk. In slow motion. "Boooooaaaaaawwwl."
I hope she chooses an indoor ball sport.