I should be sleeping because after almost 9 hours of dreamless, solid sleep last night, I am still tired today. It has been another busy week filled with much too much fun just the way they should be when summer sets in.
We are in the midst of the BIG little league playoffs. Almighty rookie baseball has rather consumed us this week just the way it should when you are in the middle of an all important tournament. Monday night's game definitely robbed me of 5 years of my life and on that I am not exaggerating. I was sure there was an alien abduction ala Close Encounters as our "Evil Empire" morphed into the Bad News Bears before my very stunned, disbelieving eyes. We were playing a team that we were so sure we were going to beat without even swinging a bat because basically that's exactly what happened when we played them earlier in the season. Yes, I realize that's enlightening. The Yankees were being smug (what one would expect from the team that everyone loves to hate) and bringing their B (or arguably Z game), and that almost cost them the game. Almost...until the bottom of the 6th inning when we were down a measly 6 to their macho 16. Our stands were so quiet that when my cell phone rang and rang and rang because it took me forever to find it (but I knew I had to because it was my hubby, the awesome assistant coach, who was calling on his break from his graduate school class), all eyes were on me aglare for disturbing prayer requests and telepathic messages being sent to the boys on the field. Most of us parents were already admitting certain defeat. I confess that I was in the majority. Even my hubby was spewing the 'glass is half full' half empty rhetoric I so love about him..."It's a good lesson. At least it wasn't a blow-out. We have another game to come back."
It had to be an act of divine intervention because before I even blinked, our bases were loaded and even our players who rarely connect the bat to the ball were spanking it to left field and then right field. It was a blitzkrieg that left the Brewer boys dazed and confused, and the Yankee fans good and giddy. As our stands came alive with high 5's and adrenaline filled cheers, the visitor's crowd had the wind knocked out of them and as such were silenced and deflated. Every single boy on our team had a hit and we claimed victory by scoring 10 runs (with only 1 out). An unbelievable 17 to 16 win was earned! The Yankees celebrated with hugs and tackles while the Brewers mourned with tears and a sad huddle. I confess that I had tears in my eyes as I was reminded that it ain't over til' it's over - shame on me!
We played again Wednesday. It was a good match and a good game, but we lost 7-8. The bottom of the 6th brought with it an uneasy sense of deja vu, but we left our two men on base stranded and lost the game, albeit by only one run.
Last night we pulled off another win (13 - 8) and T. Bone had his first ever grand slam! That's all I remember...the games are getting confused thanks to too much concession stand cuisine, not enough exercise (unless you count nervously pacing beside the dugout and walking to the concession stand), and hours upon hours spent at the little league field. Heck, we've spent so much time there that my daughter has joined the younger Sibling's Scooter Gang and she's even sick of the Skiddles she buys on credit from the concession stand!
We play tomorrow. What's with this "we" stuff you ask? I'm going to let you in on a dirty little secret. Are you ready? Little league parents are obnoxiously involved and especially when it comes to the playoffs. There's a whole lotta living vicariously going on, but the only time I'll actually have a bat in my hand is after the game when my son wants to run and play with the other kids -kids from both teams - and needs me to take his prized slugger to the car. After much therapy, I know my place.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment