It's Now Officially A Baseball Blog

We were at baseball the other night. Really, is that any surprise. Where else would I be these days. My seven year old had a game.

He got up to the plate and took what felt like five minutes getting his feet situated in the perfect spot. He set up in his batting stance, looking the part of the perfect miniature baseball player. He was even wearing his little sweatbands on his wrists, which at this age are much more likely to be used as snot wipers than for absorbing any sweat, and batting gloves.

The pitcher throws the ball. He swings. He misses. He pirouettes at the plate.

The pitcher throws the ball. He swings. He misses. He pirouettes at the plate.

The pitcher throws...

After a few more times I couldn't take it any longer. He knows how to swing the bat. He knows how to hit a ball. He was playin' the clown, as we like to say at my house.

"Are you a ballerina?" I screamed out.

The other parents looked at me. A few fathers snickered, everyone else looked shocked.

"Not that there is anything wrong with that." I shouted out.

"You know if you were at ballet school and not a baseball field." I muttered under my breath, wondering why it is that everything needs to be qualified these days.

He finally hit the ball.




And that excited face, that is what makes it all worth it. The endless Saturdays spent at the field, the juggling of various games and practices every night of the week, the over priced junk food from the snack bar, doing our part to ensure that the oil companies make a huge profit this quarter, the huge color coded calendar... yup, all worth it.

Set of photos can be found here.
You know you want to share my pain...