Play Ball

My blogging was interrupted this weekend. My eleven year old daughter had a softball tournament which became my sole responsibility while my wife entertained our out of town guest and our five year old son. We lovingly call it "Divide and Conquer".

The tournament was a blast. I'm the type of Dad who dons a glove during practice, boisterously cheers the team, provides moral support, and bites his tongue when the umpires make blatantly bad calls. I am up on my feet ninety percent of the time. I know all the girls by name. I'm at the dugout to high-five them when they come off the field, whether the inning was exceptional or dismal. I enjoy the game.

I find it interesting to watch the dynamics, not just of the team, but also the parents. The passive. The aggressive. The social. The anti-social. Those who want to be there, and those who would rather be somewhere else. Some who watch every play, others who read a book or talk on their phone the entire time. The ones we never meet who send the kids with another parent, and those who drop the kids at the field and pick them up at the end of the game. For some it seems a struggle to get out from behind the wheel.

If you pay close attention you can see character traits of the parents in the kids and it lends insight into what their future might hold and the people they will become. Smiling kids. Laughing kids. Quiet kids. Nervous kids. Whiny kids. Crying kids. Cowering kids. Chips off the old blocks.

Our girls played hard and played well. Seeing their smiles when they round home and head for the dugout is heartwarming, and for some perhaps as good as it gets.

They didn't win every game but they shared the experience. That is the most important thing.