Jeremiah's School of Levitation
Upsy-Daisy!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Baseball Better Be Berry Berry Good to Me
Remember that Peanuts cartoon where Charlie Brown is beginning to feel he's obsessed with baseball and, though he's trying to deny it, he gets the ultimate confirmation that he might be insane when, one morning, he awakes to the sun rising, only, it isn't the sun that finally bloops over the horizon, but, a giant baseball?
That's where I am, or rather, have been led.
The Littlest Jeremiah is a naturally talented young athlete and it seems that baseball is his greatest talent and interest. I've consequently done all I can to foster that and, as payback for buying the best bats, negotiating for him to get the best coaches, and being at every game, as scorekeeper, always just a glance away, he's actually become really good and really in love with the sport. We're now in the midst of the season, playing with an intense but superb, kid-oriented coach, on a great team and we've got baseball coming out of the yin, the yang, the nose, the ear, and stuck betwixt the toes. Three games a week plus practices. I don't get to sit down when I get off of work. Instead, I bounce off my house the moment I come home and I bounce all the way to the baseball field.
Vacation was a respite (though we tossed the baseball aplenty), but it was this way before then, and will be for a long time because, it seems little Jeremiah has been selected for the All-Star team. Now, add two All-Star practices a week, five weekend tournaments (two of them in distant towns, requiring weekend hotel stays) starting in late May with as many as three games a day, for three days, and, of course, on the rare off day, I'm still out on the field doing one-on-one pitching and hitting and groundering drills with him, and I get the feeling that maybe I should just clear a little space under the bleachers where I can sleep, and live on peanuts and seeds that fall through the slats. I'll sleep with my little team banner bunched up under my head, and not only will the sun be a baseball, but so will the moon, and probably the stars too.
Not that I'm complaining. Muh boy is a joy to watch. He's a great player, and he is so at home on the field that he looks like he grew there. He looks like a tiny pro in his uniform, hat cocked to the side, hands on his knees, his eyes checking out the bases. He kicks the dirt, cocks his hips, and slaps his glove just like the pros do. It's like he took classes on "How to Stylishly Idle In Baseball". He has a monster swing, he catches just about anything that comes near him, he pitched for the first time this weekend and left with two full, scoreless innings, which included catching two pop flies. He's a little star and he's gonna build daddy a big house one day.
So, sure, at random times during the day, I'll hear the words "Steeeeee-rike!" in my head. Sure, I'll start speaking exclusively in baseball metaphors ("Sure, I'll take a swing at that." "We've got deadline this week, and I'm behind now, but, when it comes down it, I bet I'll beat the throw to home!" "That last idea was a wild pitch, man."). And sure, I'll have nightmares where I'm being chased by a bunch of $200 dollar bats, all demanding that I buy them or else they'll knock me into the upper deck.
But, at the height of my insanity, when I look at the sunrise and it's actually not the son, but rather my SON, wearing his hat cocked to one side, grinning and winking, then I'll have also reached the height of my pride.
That's where I am, or rather, have been led.
The Littlest Jeremiah is a naturally talented young athlete and it seems that baseball is his greatest talent and interest. I've consequently done all I can to foster that and, as payback for buying the best bats, negotiating for him to get the best coaches, and being at every game, as scorekeeper, always just a glance away, he's actually become really good and really in love with the sport. We're now in the midst of the season, playing with an intense but superb, kid-oriented coach, on a great team and we've got baseball coming out of the yin, the yang, the nose, the ear, and stuck betwixt the toes. Three games a week plus practices. I don't get to sit down when I get off of work. Instead, I bounce off my house the moment I come home and I bounce all the way to the baseball field.
Vacation was a respite (though we tossed the baseball aplenty), but it was this way before then, and will be for a long time because, it seems little Jeremiah has been selected for the All-Star team. Now, add two All-Star practices a week, five weekend tournaments (two of them in distant towns, requiring weekend hotel stays) starting in late May with as many as three games a day, for three days, and, of course, on the rare off day, I'm still out on the field doing one-on-one pitching and hitting and groundering drills with him, and I get the feeling that maybe I should just clear a little space under the bleachers where I can sleep, and live on peanuts and seeds that fall through the slats. I'll sleep with my little team banner bunched up under my head, and not only will the sun be a baseball, but so will the moon, and probably the stars too.
Not that I'm complaining. Muh boy is a joy to watch. He's a great player, and he is so at home on the field that he looks like he grew there. He looks like a tiny pro in his uniform, hat cocked to the side, hands on his knees, his eyes checking out the bases. He kicks the dirt, cocks his hips, and slaps his glove just like the pros do. It's like he took classes on "How to Stylishly Idle In Baseball". He has a monster swing, he catches just about anything that comes near him, he pitched for the first time this weekend and left with two full, scoreless innings, which included catching two pop flies. He's a little star and he's gonna build daddy a big house one day.
So, sure, at random times during the day, I'll hear the words "Steeeeee-rike!" in my head. Sure, I'll start speaking exclusively in baseball metaphors ("Sure, I'll take a swing at that." "We've got deadline this week, and I'm behind now, but, when it comes down it, I bet I'll beat the throw to home!" "That last idea was a wild pitch, man."). And sure, I'll have nightmares where I'm being chased by a bunch of $200 dollar bats, all demanding that I buy them or else they'll knock me into the upper deck.
But, at the height of my insanity, when I look at the sunrise and it's actually not the son, but rather my SON, wearing his hat cocked to one side, grinning and winking, then I'll have also reached the height of my pride.
Labels: the sporting life
Elliot, 8:18 AM
6 Back at me:
Both our kids are in sports of various kinds, and even though the driving and rushed dinners and missed down time make us start to regret it, then we see the kids on the field making a spectacular soccer save, or in a martial arts school kicking the crap out of some guy twice as big as him, or making that KEEE-RACK connection with the baseball, and it's all worth it. Totally, beautifully worth it.
Sounds like your buttons are popping off your shirt already. Mariners here we come...
sounds pretty cool there daddy-o...
and where is Chico Escuela today???
and where is Chico Escuela today???
Parental pride. Nothing more glorious. You reminded me of a book I heard about recenlty: Watching Baseball Smarter - have seen this?
you've been blessed. My son is not a natural athlete, so these things don't come easy to him. I'm not a natural athelete either but I am a natural brunette, which is about all I have...so there you go
Mona: A-men.
Emma: Yeah. I better take agent classes, too.
Ipod: Though Chico had some minor successes, it was nothing on the level of Murray and Ackroyd. Hollywood wasn't berry berry good.
Maggie: I'll check it out. I've become a real fan of the sport, as played on the little league level, I'll have to say.
Doo Ba: My oldest is not a natural athlete either, but rather quite a mental athlete. He's going to build daddy a big VACATION house someday.
Emma: Yeah. I better take agent classes, too.
Ipod: Though Chico had some minor successes, it was nothing on the level of Murray and Ackroyd. Hollywood wasn't berry berry good.
Maggie: I'll check it out. I've become a real fan of the sport, as played on the little league level, I'll have to say.
Doo Ba: My oldest is not a natural athlete either, but rather quite a mental athlete. He's going to build daddy a big VACATION house someday.
