Allow me one more baseball post. Today was the last game of the season. 2:00 p.m. in Abilene, Texas. A balmy 96*, winds approximately 25 mph. Basically go preheat your oven to cook a frozen pizza then open your oven door and you have the general feel.
I just wanted the game to get here and be over. Enough baseball, already. We played Thursday evening, the last day of school, and it was a disaster. Most of the kids stood in the outfield waiting for the ball to wander into their glove. I didn't imagine this game would be much better, although I knew the team we were playing would at least get us a win. The coaches for the other team are unbelievably nice gentlemen that hate to take anymore family time from the players than the games already take, so they don't get into the whole practice thing too much.
By the end of the 2nd inning, we had quite a solid lead, so our coach benched our best players and scrambled the outfield to give kids opportunities to play new positions. It was a great experience for our guys and the other team was able to get quite a few hits. They even made it to the 9th batter -- our little league has a rule that only 9 batters can bat in one inning. However, if the 9th batter gets a hit (as opposed to striking out) the ball is still in play until either the batter himself has been tagged or home plate is tagged with the ball. (Please don't ask for more details -- I barely understand it).
The other team's little 9th batter was a little bitty guy named Bobby I had seen the coach working with for batting practice. The coach was SO encouraging, and would call him, "Bobby, the Bob-ster!" Bobby approached the plate with much trepidation, but eager. His first swing was when the ball was about half-way to home plate. The coach was still so encouraging and I really don't remember much other than Bobby got a hit. I don't remember where he hit it, but Bobby kept running. He was like Forrest Gump -- not to be stopped. One of our outfielders tagged 2nd base before Bobby got there, but didn't tag Bobby. Bobby kept running. Bobby ended up getting a home run and hitting 2 runners home. The little stands -- both sides -- erupted with cheers for Bobby.
With tears in her eyes, Bobby's mother told our coach that is the first time all season Bobby has gotten a hit in a game. What a way to end the season. That's what it's all about.
4 comments:
Way to go Bobster. . .and Bobster's coach. You are absolutely right. That IS what it's all about, and even if Bobby NEVER gets another hit, it will be a high point in his life.
OR he could someday end up playing major league ball. . .we'll know if we hear that story repeated 20 years from now. . .
"So Bob, how did you get your start?"
"Well, there was this great coach from a town in West Texas who gave me a chance in little league ball. . ."
You the man, Bobster! That's what I wanna see on the field!
I know of the bobster- cute as pie! My eyes are moist with tears of joy or did that happen when I read. . . the end of baseball! Either way that is Halaluja worthy!
Dang-it Sarah. I'm sitting here at the desk on Memorial Day morning with a cup of coffee reading this and my eyes are all aglazed! That Bob!!!!
Post a Comment