Little League baseball season is in full swing again (get it?) and for the first time since my son began playing, I am not his head coach. I’m helping out where I can – reminding the boys to keep their heads down when they swing, to use two hands when fielding a grounder and to stop punching themselves in the nuts to see if their protective cups are still working – but other pursuits made impossible the time commitment required to act as head coach of the Red Sox.

The opportunity to take a step backward, however small it is, has given me a new perspective – and I like it. A lot. I credit that to the fact that I can now focus more regularly on a certain little stud who wears number seven, bats left-handed, and looks a lot like me.

I have tried before to portray myself in the role of “entirely objective observer,” but I now see the preposterousness of that line of bullshit. I DO live vicariously through my son. I do. I can’t see myself becoming one of those overzealous Little League dads who screams at his kid when he swings at a bad pitch, but I’m certainly my son’s biggest fan. And because I have disavowed my objectivity, I don’t mind telling you that my son, number seven, is a very good player.

[A quick digression to tell you how much MORE objective I am than Hot Wife. We are in the process of completing our will, and the other night when we were discussing the kids and savings and all that, my beautiful wife said she’s certain our son will be playing Major League Baseball and that he’ll need someone parental to help him manage his millions in the event that she and I are both killed in a tragic weed-whacker accident.]

I was late to The Champ’s game last night because traffic sucked and it took me a moment to quell the homicidal thoughts I was having about a certain coworker. I arrived in the second inning, while the Red Sox were in the field. I ambled up next to Trevor, another assistant coach, and asked him how we were playing.

“Most of them are playing like shit,” he said, “but I’m having a really good time watching your son play catcher.”

“Is he all over the place?” I asked, assuming Trevor was making a joke.

“NO!” he said. “Look at him! He’s making plays back there. He’s not afraid of the ball like most of the other kids on this team.”

I liked hearing that. Trevor’s one of those no-bullshit guys who says what he means and knows what he’s talking about. I knew he wasn’t blowing smoke up my ass. And after a long, soul-crushing day in the office, his thoughts were like a big bong hit. I felt my shoulders relax and the tension leave my body. I felt myself exhale.

I spent the rest of the gaming watching my son, and I felt myself getting emotional as I did so. It wasn’t because I was living vicariously through him as he hit line drives and deftly fielded hard-hit ground balls. It wasn’t because I thought his strong play was somehow a reflection on me or the efficacy of my coaching, my fathering, my own passion for the game.

It was because he was having fun.

It’s as pure as anything I’ve ever seen: a seven-year-old boy playing baseball, getting dirty, sliding when there’s no need to do so just because it’s fun to get dirty. He had a bright blue Gatorade mustache. He was wearing a heavily weathered helmet that dwarfed his head. And the smile almost never left his face.

When you watch a lot of youth sports, you begin to notice the attitudes and postures of the kids. Some hate it and look miserable. Some play because they want to make their parents happy. Some try their hardest and strike out every time, but they persevere because once they’ve hit the ball a single time and felt the euphoria it brings, they can’t wait to feel it again.

It’s a lot like what grown-ups experience. Some of us are miserable and depressed. Some of us do what we must because we feel obligated; it’s our job. Some of us are pure blue collar, clocking in and out everyday because it’s all we know, all we expect, all we can do. And like the boys, we persevere. Because we feel love. We feel loved. And once you’ve felt that, you can’t wait to feel it again.

What I felt yesterday had nothing to do with baseball; it had to do with life. And love.

And where that's concerned, I'll NEVER be objective.

Comments

This post really touched me. We just found out recently that my son has Asberger's syndrome. It saddens me to know he doesn't see the world like he wishes he could. We have been working on a few things and one of them is, trying to capture the good feeling and not the "bad" feeling.

His behavior is getting more managable but still needs alot of attention and work. I hope one day he stops shying away from happiness and allows it to spill over him.

Jillian

You made me cry. Our kids are fortunate to have you, as am I.

You're getting all sappy on me dammit. (Wipes tear.)

I need a big bong-hit Trevor to tell me my son is doing great once in awhile. It makes all his struggles worth it when someone says what a trooper he is. It makes me puff up my chest and get all proud. Then my husband will nudge me and tell me to quit being so proud, because everyone is looking at my boobs.

I LOVE reading about the Champ playing ball..and reading about you watching him play ball. That's the way it should be.

My oldest doesn't seem to be interested in sports yet, but she's a far better artist than I. I have a feeling I will eventually be living vicariously through her math skills. Sweet.

Love it! Now take that feeling, and increase it 1,000 times. That is what you get when you watch the Challenger Division of Little League. You should try to make one of Jenelle's games one day!

You gotta love a Gatorade mustache!

Yeah dude, this is the 1st post I've read on your blog and I'm just as manly as the next guy/dad, but you brought a tear to my eye... Even while sitting here at the office.

Thanks for sharing!

You're growing up. Yes you are.

Your nephew spent most of yesterday's practice working on his dance moves in right field. But, when it came time to bat, he was one of the few kids who could actually connect. He's no "the champ", but he's rockin' it and having fun, too. It's a great experience, isn't it?

That was very sweet. He's lucky to have you in his corner! I had to LOL when you wrote...

"...and to stop punching themselves in the nuts to see if their protective cups are still working."

so just like little boys!!

It's a great feeling, isn't it? My oldest (age 25) is an aspiring actor and watching her on stage gives me the same sort of feeling. Although the actors usually aren't punching themselves in the nuts. Usually.

Another cool thing is watching my boyfriend, age 50+ with no kids of his own, start to experience some of those feelings about my son, who is about your son's age. It's wonderful. (sniff...)

That was a wonderful post. My son played T-Ball last year and I really loved seeing the huge, ear to ear grin he got every time he slid into a base. It seemd like he really loved that it was OK to get dirty. I love your blog. Thanks for sharing.

Great story. Sounds like he'd be a solid goaltender. You do have him playing hockey too, right?!

It's so good to hear a parent let their child play sport for fun. I teach swimming and I see so many children who come only because they have to. It's a chore. Then there are the kids who are there because they love to swim. They are the ones who are a joy to teach (and their parents tend to be much nicer too)

We've spent twelve years in Little League. My daughter loves softball more than anything, I believe. Well, she loves the drumline too. But that's a whole other season.

And I know how you feel about watching those kids enjoy the game. If parents would shut their cake holes and let the kids play, the game would be everything that is pure and good. But dude, I totally hate Little League parents....

We've spent twelve years in Little League. My daughter loves softball more than anything, I believe. Well, she loves the drumline too. But that's a whole other season.

And I know how you feel about watching those kids enjoy the game. If parents would shut their cake holes and let the kids play, the game would be everything that is pure and good. But dude, I totally hate Little League parents....

Way to go Champ! I hope he gets to tour the country and we can watch him play in Texas.

How touching! I work with kids, and I see a lot of them doing things their parents want them to, or things their parents just plain want to do themselves. When a kid is doing something for their own sake - there's a difference. It takes a great parent and lots of love to appreciate that.

Love it!!!

I feel exactly the same way when I watch my 12yo son play ball.

He's the team's catcher, and the other day, I overheard the VP of the league ask if that was my son catching. "Wow. He doesn't ever miss a ball, does he?" he added.

Not just for that, but in general, I just feel overwhelmed with pride and love for my kids and husband on pretty much a daily basis. I wonder if they ever tire of hearing that from me?

I found that only by signing up as a referee for our daughters' soccer league, could I restrain myself from being that mad parent screaming "encouragement" from the sidelines. The alternative was not to show up for the games, which the girls would have hated. This way (for a few weekends at least) instead of "Dad totally embarrassed us" it was "Dad's cool in that yellow referee t-shirt!"

Four years and counting of parental embarrassment!

I LOVE this post! I wish my son was at all interested in sports. He is amazing at story telling and acting though, we'll see where it goes...

Your son certainly is a champ, it takes guts to get out there and keep at it even when you don't want to, you lose, or the weather is bad. He rocks and I'd imagine for every second you spend watching him he spends thinking how you're the greatest Dad and he's gonna hit one home for you!!!

I LOVE this post! I wish my son was at all interested in sports. He is amazing at story telling and acting though, we'll see where it goes...

Your son certainly is a champ, it takes guts to get out there and keep at it even when you don't want to, you lose, or the weather is bad. He rocks and I'd imagine for every second you spend watching him he spends thinking how you're the greatest Dad and he's gonna hit one home for you!!!

I'm totally and completely jealous. Our son had a freak accident in December, broke his femur and is out for the baseball season this year. Just reading this makes me long for the ball field. We'll be in the stands watching his friends, but it's just not the same thing as watching your own kid's joy.

You are all dad!!
.....amongst other things I'm sure.

Now THIS is a truly fabulous post.

What a beautiful post! Just what I need on this boring morning in the office. Tell Hot Wife I totally understand where she's coming from re. the will - our son will obviously need the same care :)

Danny, what a great post. I totally get it. Last year alone I watched my son play in 76 soccer games....and it never gets old. I love watching him play. I love the sense of pride I see in him when he knows his team depends on him. He is growing into a wonderful young man and I am so proud of him. Parenthood just ROCKS doesn't it! Thanks for sharing your family with all of us here on the web. Love your blog!!! :)

I love hearing about kids actually remembering that playing sports is supposed to be fun. I was telling The Daughter after the hockey game the other day that one of the reasons that I love Alex Ovechkin is because he is a grown man getting paid to play a game, and while he goes out and plays his hardest (as he must do, since he's getting paid big bucks to play a game), he still acts like a little boy having a great time. I'm all for exhibiting talent and playing your hardest, but whether we are talking Little League/Pop Warner/Mite hockey or whether we are talking MLB/NFL/NHL, it's still a freaking game, and should be enjoyed. (Holy run-on sentence, Batman!)

Nice post Danny. Back in the day when I was coaching, my season ending evaluation of the job I had done as coach was simply this; Do the kids want to play again next year? If the answer was yes then I had done a good job.

Understanding that helps allow kids to love the game and as your post so eloquently points out, the Champ loves the game. Good job coach! Well done dad!!! You are learning grasshopper. ;)

Sometimes you make me cry.

This post actually brought a tear to my eye. My son is a freshman at a local junior college. He has played ball since he was seven. I coached him until he was about 12 when I realized the kids needed someone a lot more baseball savvy than me. He played through high school and was a starting pitcher - lettered three years. Suddenly this year it's over. God I miss it.

That was incredible, Danny. I gotta tell you, my Dad forced me into team sports, and I kind of resented him for it. But now I wonder if he didn't force me into it, among other reasons, just so that he could come to my games and practices and have a reminder of what the hell he was working himself ragged for. I love him, and I love you! (Well, I heart you in a blog kind of way, nothing as creepy as that sounded when I read it back. ;))

"after a long, soul-crushing day in the office, his thoughts were like a big bong hit." EXcellent metaphor!

"after a long, soul-crushing day in the office, his thoughts were like a big bong hit." EXcellent metaphor!

nice

What a great post!
I had a similiar feeling watching my 7 year old ski a few weeks ago. She loved what she was doing, even when she was getting frustated with me because I couldn't do the "french fry" with my skiis as flawlessly as she could!

You're a good man, Danny.

You are right! My two boys play baseball and they have so much fun. I hate the parents who yell at their kids when they strike out or when they missed the ball, its all about having fun.
You are a great Dad. Keep up the good work. He is so lucky to have you.
Always reading....
Gabby

Thread title is my favorite line from one of my favorite bands.

Thanks for another great post - have to head home and get my own metaphorical bong hit!

This post makes me think of your friend Jim? that passed this year. Appreciating what we have day to day does more honor to those who have passed early than any other thing we could do.

This post makes me think of your friend Jim? that passed this year. Appreciating what we have day to day does more honor to those who have passed early than any other thing we could do.

this is exactly why I can't stand the "anti praise" people. Why shouldn't our kids know how damn proud they make us of them? It feels amazing to have your parents feel that way. And you're an excellent writer!! Doesn't that feel good to hear?

DGM-
That is exactly how I felt every single time I watched my brother play baseball. He was my idol and his games were my life way back when.
I shyed(shied?)away from sports with my own and yanked them from teams when it became a chore. I have two who play soccer now and "hannie-b" is always having a good time even when they get their asses kicked. Ya gotta love those moments...that swell of love, and pride and the mere content feeling it gives you. And, so right, we will always want more, more, more. Nothing wrong with that!

I've been reading your blog for a while, and while I've definitely enjoyed it, I've never felt compelled to comment until now.

This post made me tear up a bit, because I can totally relate to the pride you felt watching your son. I have kids very similar in age to yours (my daughter will be 6 very soon, and my son is 3 ... you're living about a year ahead of us, so I feel like I'm learing through you! But I digress.). I feel the same way when I watch them excel in the things they love.

Anyway, keep up the great work on your blog. As a fellow parent from Orange County, I relate so much to the things you write about (except I've never been stabbed with a mechanical pencil). Thanks for making me laugh and cry and to enjoy being a parent.

Love that blue mustache. Love that kid. Love DGM.

Wow.

I don't know if I can ever be a League parent. Some just put too much pressure on kids.

Back when she was that age, we put our daughter in little league because she wanted to and because she was good. Honestly. A lot of the Dads would say things like "Haven't you ever heard of softball?", which used to really piss me off. It wasn't long before she could outplay more than half of her team. (This was her endearing tomboy stage.) That pretty much silenced the nay-sayers, lol.

I'll never forget the day I was sitting in the stands in front of a couple of Dads from the opposing team who were mouthing off about how easy it would be to get a homer by hitting to left field, where our daughter played short stop. One of their kids steps up to the plate (a real bruiser too) & they all start yelling about hitting a left side line drive because there was a girl there.

Bless her heart. When the big kid hit the line drive to third, the 3rd baseman missed it, but she had gone long & caught that ball solid. In a flash, she threw it to home & made another out. Shut those Dads up for the rest of the game. I've never been so proud. She was amazing, amongst all the *daisy pickers*.

The next year, she decided that she loved soccer and my dreams of her becoming the first pro female baseball player were squashed. However, she did wind up being an excellent soccer player. She even got scholarship offers for college. They just weren't from a school she wanted to go to, lol. By college, she was sick of soccer. Strangely enough, now that she's out of college, she plays on a soccer team and has a blast.

Wow. I found you by clicking a link, clicking a link, hitting the "x" on some porn, clicking a link and then clicking a link...and then ended up crying. I like you. Thanks.

I keep returning to read this post and trying to think of something clever to say.

All I've come up with is "Thank you."

Do you know what a great thought is?:
Your son taking all of the things you taught him, and using them to teach HIS son.

I've been reading your posts, going through the archives, because they're funny as hell, but the ones I love the most are the ones about your kids. Your son is so much like my 8 year old, and when you write about Little League, I read them out loud to my husband and he nods while we both laugh because Little League is so universal. We can relate to every piece of it.

You're a good dad.