Don’t rile momma bear…

I probably should’ve let Alex fight her own battle; let her bat do the talkin’ as it were…

Wait… before I get into it; some stuff about me.

I am an avid sports fan.  Football, baseball, hockey, the Olympics, World Cup Soccer even gets me… but it’s another level entirely when you’re talkin’ any competition involving my children.  Please, do not confuse avid with asshole.  I loathe trash talking – my kids aren’t even allowed to wear shirts with sayings I consider arrogant or boastful; I don’t like it and I don’t do it – mostly.  I can only take so much and I’m always so dang disappointed in myself when I let somebody else goad me into that kind of behavior.

When my kids hit the ball diamond – my desire for them to win is… well… it’s just like every other parent’s desire for their kid to win – it’s an all-consuming fire.  That’s not to say I don’t handle loss well – I’m not a berating parent (trust me, my kids beat themselves up enough for both of us) and I’m also of the mentality that losing and even to personally stink up the joint every now and again, is good for them.  …keeps ’em grounded and it makes for a better outing the next go ’round, usually.  It’s a fact of life – we all lose, eventually – and the sooner a kid understands that and develops a healthy coping system, the better.

My kids (Alex and Cal, specifically) are dynamite softball/baseball players.  They aren’t perfect, they make their fair share of mistakes and have less than All Star performances, frequently.  But in the general sense they are talented, have game smarts, have a real desire to compete and are coachable (that last part makes me especially proud).  I guess if my kids were duds, I wouldn’t enjoy it all as much (I like to think that’s not true but… I know me too well).  I love to watch them play and over the years I’ve been lucky enough to see some other insanely gifted ball players – both kids have a group of friends who fall into that category.

I am the type of parent who cheers for other kids as loudly as I do my own – and I’m proud to say, we are blessed to live in an area where this is the norm, not the exception.  Most parents will cheer every kid because, frankly, we’ve all known these kids for years; our kids have been teammates, opponents, and best friends for as far back as we can remember.

Last year on opening day of little league Cal threw a pitch that was launched so far out, I’m not sure it has landed yet.  This kid got all of that ball and as he rounded 3rd where we were standing, Dan and I clapped and whistled and told him, “Great hit buddy!!” Now at the crack of the bat, Dan and I both did the breath-in-loudly-through-clenched-teeth with the barely audible, “oiyyyyy”; but by the time the batter got around to us we’d composed ourselves and wanted to let him know we were proud of him.  Cal saw us and never said a word – the boy “gets it”.

My kids aren’t perfect athletes as I said; they mess up (Cal once ran off the field with his team following – with only 2 outs recorded- blue-jerseyed kids were hauling ass around the bases, my dad’s yelling, “GET THE BALL! GET THE BALL! WE ONLY HAVE 2 OUTS!”  hahaha truth be told, my boy has done this twice), my kids commit errors and have all around bad outings .  This is to be expected; they.are.kids.  What I don’t expect is for a parent to comment during such an outing or to give me advice on how my kid can be better.  In one memorable game, Cal was not doing well on the mound.  The two issues he faced were 1) he didn’t have it that day and 2) he was outrageously over-matched.  I don’t think any of our boys would’ve had success but we’ll never know because his coaches left him out there (every parent of a pitcher knows what I’m talking about here).  Being the parent of a pitcher can be the most awesome feeling and the most lonely feeling in the world – yes, even at the little league level.  I’m at my most happy when the other mothers are fretting (sorry Katrina).

Anyway, Dan and I got to the field mid game (I shit you not, I was handling some work issues on my phone and twice, TWICE I looked up as we were parking and said, “NOT THIS FIELD” – we drove 82 minutes to get to a field 25 minutes away).  So by the time we took our seats, I was not very accommodating.  I sat next to a parent and asked, “How’s it lookin?”.  He responded with, “Cal doesn’t have it today.”  Ok, it was a true statement and being well aware I was primed, I took some deep breaths and calmed myself; but with every pitch Cal threw – and he only threw 2 pitches that day: balls and homeruns – this asshat next to me would react.  [ball] “scheesch”, [ball] “oh wow”, [dinger] “they need to take him out”…  and on and on and on.  Finally, my shit attitude got the best of me and I stood up and said, “I’m gonna hafta move the hell away from you before things get ugly between us.”  Poor Dan… I left him behind wondering what in god’s name just went down (he wasn’t able to hear the asshat’s comments).

Here’s the thing – this guy was spot on about Cal’s performance and if he had approached me at the next practice or even an hour after the game – I would’ve been irked but I probably would’ve reacted a little more diplomatically, HOWEVER…  in the heat of the moment – when I am watching my kid battle, and lose mightily, the LAST thing I need to hear is some idiot carrying on about how bad it is…

He came to… I dunno… apologize? I guess, at the next game.  The mess tumbling outta his mouth was not apology material but I finally looked at him and said, “it would never occur to me to criticize your boy, especially with you sitting next to me but, with that being said, we have a lot of years of ball and other sports ahead of us so we’re fine, it’s over and I’m sorry I snapped.”  The intelligent person would then walk away; this  piece of work says, “yeah, I just thought you knew more about baseball and therefore could understand what I was saying.”  Dude… back…. away…

So anyway, I guess I just needed for you all to know I’m not a parent who carries on about her kids’ skills but I do get pretty jacked when somebody is dissin’ one of them…

And so we find ourselves at the junior high softball game yesterday.

It was a tight game, 5-3 us I think when Alex stepped into the batter’s box.  A dad (whom I know outside the realm of junior high softball and don’t care for him there either) is standing on the bleachers and I hear him say, “If this girl would tighten up her stance she’d be a better hitter.”

I’m not sure who brought the record player, but I swear I heard the needle scrape across before all sound and activity stopped, those parents near me (all close friends) froze, only their eyes moving, barely breathing.  I waited – one heartbeat,  {he’s an ass let it go}, another heartbeat {he has no clue what he’s talking about, I’m better than this…}, another heartbeat {I can’t stand it, it goes against everything in me to sit here silently…} then I turned my head toward him, leaned forward and with my most pleasant ‘what the hell are you even saying’ smile, I said, “Uhhhh in her last 7 at-bats she’s hit 5 triples… I think she’s doing ok; we’ll leave her stance as is for now.”

I sat back, the pitcher threw her pitch and Alex crushed it.  Deep into the left-center gap where it rolled to the fence.  Ol’ number 2 wheeled around the bases and slid into 3rd…. safe.

tighten this stance… asshole.