Thoughts on my first year being a softball dad

A friend of mine waited until my first at-bat of slowpitch season, and started one of those asinine chants as I walked to the plate because he knew it'd piss me off. He didn't know, however, that I'd call time and walk back towards the bleachers, bat in hand. He stopped.

 

;D ;D ;D

Some older girls at my daughter's game last night chanted after every hit

"Hit 'em high, him 'em low, that's the way we go, go go. Go (Team)!"

One inning, they had about eight hits. Ummm ... SHADDAP!!

 

Coached the little Editudes in soccer for two years. They were old enough to care but young enough not to obsess. Good times. And the sectional championship wasn't bad either. ;D

 

Finished my first year of 7-8 yr old Pony baseball (coach pitch). Had one of the few good managers who followed the positive coaching principles, never yelled at any kids and emphasized the positives.

Loved rooting for the other players and seeing kids progress. Hated the kids who refused to listen and follow the rules; you know trying to be the superstar and hogging the ball without throwing it to others or running into outs on the bases even though coach said stop. Oh well. Loved helping the kids who would listen and want help. Just seeing a kid who had struck out like for 5 straight games finally get a line drive hit is one of life's finer moments.

Hard not to want my boy to do well. But never emphasized anything about his performance after a game other than "did you have fun?" Now he asks me "want to play catch dad? Can you pitch to me?" Hope that never ends.

 

Boy, does this bring back a flood of memories. Started at 7 with coach pitch on up through the youth leagues, then travel ball at 13. After every summer, when it was time to decide if he was returning to the same team or moving to another one, the first questions asked were, "Do you like the coach?" "Are you having fun?" It seemed every year they brought another player at his position who was supposed to be better, and every year my son eventually became the every day player. The kid everybody thought was too small, too slow, couldn't hit with enough power ... in September, he begins workouts as a Division I college player.

 

One of my favorite nights on the desk was the night we got a Little League submission from a coach in a coach-pitch league whose team had lost by something like 23-0 -- and the coach had thrown a no-hitter. I'm thinking the kids probably observed that tradition of not talking to a pitcher with a no-hitter pretty closely.