You can spot a baseball mom from twenty paces – she usually
has a large tote bag, found online that is handcrafted in team colors….and in
my case, includes rhinestones. Usually she is wearing some form of baseball
jewelry, maybe earrings or a necklace, sometimes a bracelet too…..again, in my
case, very blingy.
They’re a special
breed, baseball moms. When the ball is
in play, she is screaming and beating on the fence while attempting to force
runners out with pure lung power. And a
baseball mom can be an endless source of practical information as it relates to
online shopping and laundry stain removal (between innings, of course). She can also be an endless source of
inspiration. Yep. I said inspiration. See, your average baseball mom is not your
average parent. She’s a team player in
every sense of the word. A baseball team
is just the right size for the baseball mom to “hover parent”. Try bringing Gatorade for an entire football
team. Try getting to know every parent
with a child on the track team. It doesn't work so well with groups that size. But
twelve to fourteen kids mixed with agreeable spring and summer weather, it
brings out the best in a mom.
I got my start as a baseball mom with T-ball. Tyler was 4
years old. Most baseball moms get their
feet wet by bringing team snacks and concession stand duty. My approach was a little different—I worked my
way onto the field as an assistant coach.
When Tyler moved up to coach pitch instructional baseball, I was there
as the dugout mom and then the score keeper.
When Tyler was nine, he started playing travel baseball and we spent weekends living in hotels
with other parents. The level of "baseballmomism" took on a whole new meaning with travel baseball.
The years flew by and Tyler is now entering into his last year
of high school baseball. He no longer
asks me for sno-cones and nachos from the concession stand after the game. And if I even mention bringing enough sunflower seeds and bubblegum to a varsity game for the whole team, he looks at me like I have a lobster crawling
out of my ear. They’re not little T-ballers anymore.
But I am still a baseball mom and I yearn for the days of
making team goodie bags…….
I recently attended a parent meeting for Tyler’s high school
baseball team. The meeting was about the
opportunity for the team to play at PNC Park.
At one point during the meeting the coach explained that although they
would love to win every game, baseball is more than just about a winning
season. He stated that he and his coaching staff like
to teach more than just baseball skills, they like to include “life skills” as
well. Another coach remarked that “service”
was hard to teach and that he was pleasantly surprised when two seniors on the
baseball team approached him about service project they wanted the baseball
team to do. They wanted to collect toys for children who are in Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh. Not only did they want the
team to participate in this service project this year, but they wanted this to
become a legacy for Shenango High School baseball. One
of the seniors was Tyler. I knew about
the project. Tyler has talked to me endlessly
at about it and what he plans to do and what how he wants it to look. What I didn’t know was that it was his idea. As I sat in that meeting and listened to the
coach praise my son, my heart swelled with pride and my eyes filled up with
tears. What baseball mom’s wouldn’t? I looked at my son who was sitting there
listening with his eyes looking down. My son….he’s talking about my son. He was talking about the child, who for years,
had so much pent up anger because his grandmother was taken away by
cancer. He was talking about the child,
who a few years after that, had to learn that his mother had cancer. He was talking about the child, who a couple
years after that lost his grandfather suddenly while we were away at a baseball
tournament. The child, who didn’t speak
to adults until tenth grade and who was diagnosed with social anxiety. The
tears slid down my cheek although I didn’t want them to. I looked at my son sitting next me. He was no longer the four year old T-ball player
that made me play catch for hours or time him while he ran the bases. He was an adult. When did that happen? Although I’m so full of emotion lately, I
knew it would be a very bad idea to wrap my arms around him during that meeting.
I love every minute I have spent at the baseball field so far. It’s a big part of our life and more
importantly, my son is doing what he loves best. Thirteen years ago we started this journey,
with a little four year old who couldn’t get enough of running the bases. Watching him grow into the ballplayer and
young man he is today has been a great joy.
Lucky for me, the ultimate baseball mom, the journey isn’t over.
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