Baseball season is finally over.
After this first wonderful game, it went downhill. And fast.
The team was called the Braves and my husband and I affectionately referred to them as the Bad News Braves. Because after their first game, they never won another one.
There are lots of reasons why the Braves weren’t as good as the other teams in the league: no one on the Braves had ever played modified tee-ball before, the kids were younger and smaller than most of the kids on the other teams, a lot of our practices got rained out, and we had several kids that would not listen to the coach.
For the first half of the season, after every loss, Peter would look up at me with his big brown eyes and ask me if I was mad at him for losing.
I was finally able to convince him that I wasn’t mad.
Before every game, I told him I just wanted him to do his best. To keep his eye on the ball at all times. And to have fun. And I kept stressing the fun part.
Because after all, it’s really just a game. And if he isn’t having fun then he shouldn’t be doing it.
But Peter is a pleaser and I think he felt that Dan and I wanted him to play ball. (Which we did and do.) And I think he felt he would be letting us down if he didn’t.
There were many afternoons when I had to practically drag Peter to practice and the whole time he was complaining, “I’m not playing again next year!”
But as soon as he saw his trophy at the end of the year party, he declared, “I want to play Fall Ball AND Spring Ball!”
He has two weeks to decide about Fall Ball before we have to sign up. And as much as I hope he decides to play, I’ve got a feeling he’ll change his mind by then.
The excitement of receiving the tall trophy, the thrill of making some great plays at third base in the last few games, and the charge that comes from running across home plate will be distant memories in two weeks when I remind him of sign-ups.
I’m sure he’ll shrug and say “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to play.”
And I’ll be ok with that.