Nine Innings

The other day, I dusted this article off and found it was appropriate for a warm day just begging for nine innings to be played on it. Baseball is a way of redemption for me that allows me to reminisce, enjoy the present and ponder the future all at the same time. It was written some seven years ago, so keep in mind this was the spring of 2004.

1st Inning
“My son plays third base,” I proudly exclaim to any of my friends who would ask. Jordan is thirteen and playing baseball for his school. Quite frankly, I’m just thrilled that he can walk and the fact that he plays any type of position is a bonus. Only four years, before I wasn’t even sure if he would live or even survive after he sustained injuries in a car accident. Lucky dad.

2nd Inning
I can remember this past spring at one of his games as he came to the plate and after a few pitches he swung and connected and the ball sailed over the left fielder’s head. I was so proud of him. In my mind, it was a miracle he was even alive and now he was running. Deep inside me, as I waved him into second from the first base coach’s box, all I could think about was that’s my kid. Proud dad.

3rd Inning
It was just the other month that I was reading an article about a teenage baseball player who had suffered a serious injury affecting his ability to play for which the father blamed himself. Before the accident, both his parents held out such high hopes that one day he might be a professional ball player. As I read the article further, it was quite apparent that the parents were not dealing well with the loss of this dream as the mother blamed the father and the father felt absolutely guilty. Meanwhile, the son continued to attempt to play but was rendered less than ordinary. Trying to find a bright spot the article ended with the boy stating that if baseball did not work out his second choice would be the computer field. Distressed dad. Smart kid.

4th Inning
A few years ago I was attending one of my son’s fall baseball games. During the game the pitcher on the other team was struggling and the coach, who happened to be his dad, went out to discuss the situation with his son. What transpired next still perplexes me to this day. The father was quite upset and became very enraged with the situation and asked for his son to hand him the ball. The son flung the ball in anger in the dad’s general direction. The boy then proceeded to run as fast as his fifth grade legs would carry him into right field. Subsequently, the father used a few choice words and insulted his son’s manhood and proceeded back into the dugout. Misguided dad.

5th Inning
In my own personal baseball career, my dad never coached me on any of my teams, but as far back as I can recall he has come to almost every game I have ever been in. My most cherished memory is just playing catch with my dad in the backyard as a kid. He would usually say, when asked, that he didn’t have the time, but if I would get his baseball glove out of the bottom of his closet he would try to fit it in. The way my dad made time for me was more important to me than whether I was any good at the sport. Discerning dad.

6th Inning
A couple of weeks ago, I finally experienced something that I had never done in my entire softball career. I hit a homerun over the outfield fence. It felt good but not as fantastic as I thought it would. About 45 minutes later, the sky got very dark and because of the threat of lightning the umpire postponed the game. So, as I drove home under the gray conditions I felt somewhat mixed emotions. I was happy, but disappointed because my son and family were not there to witness the event. Funny how some things don’t seem as important if you don’t have your family there to share it. Melancholy dad.

7th Inning
A friend and fellow softball player once told me something very profound that I have never forgotten. We were talking after a softball game in which we suffered a heart breaking loss. It was a game we should have won by all rights, but due to the fact that it was too dark to see we could have rightfully protested and probably gotten the win. But as Rob and I sat there on that wooden bench we did not discuss such things. I can remember Rob turning to me, “well at least you still have your family to go home to.” Those words hit me right up the middle of my heart. Wise dad.

8th Inning
All Abner Doubleday did was to invent a game that consisted of four bases, a round object and a stick, for this, he is lauded as the father of baseball. Yet, a dad has the ability to do something of much greater importance. For instance, every time a dad takes his child fishing, to a movie, reads a book to them, takes them to a ballgame, or plays a video game with them he is creating a moment of significance in their life. By putting yourself on their level, you show genuine interest that will stand the test of time. Thoughtful dad.

9th Inning
Needless to say, the position my son plays or the fact that he plays baseball is not important at all. I am proud of Jordan because he is my son and have been since the first moment I cradled him in my arms and became his dad. Quite frankly, I’m just thrilled that he can walk and the fact that he plays any type of position is a bonus. And if you ask me now, I would gladly tell you with a big grin, “My son plays anywhere they need him.” Ecstatic dad.

“Things could be worse. Suppose your errors were counted and published every day, like those of a baseball player.” ~ Author Unknown

Simply yours, Swavel