A Father’s Confession

When I watch you playing I really want to play with you.  I remember when I was your age, it may not have been baseball as  I was playing basketball then, I would enjoy just going out there and playing as hard as I can.  When I watch you play, I wish I could be right there on the field with you,  waiting for the ball with you and completing a play with you.    I would back you up when a line drive goes  directly to you and would cover your base when a ball pulls you off it.

We would be building great memories together if that were possible.   But of course I can’t.  I just get to watch you play and hope that you are enjoying as much playing as I am watching you.

I got this Dad

I got this Dad

When I watch you playing baseball,  I always pray that you do well.  I secretly wish the ball does go to you and that you pick it up easily and finish the play with a well timed throw.  I secretly wish you find yourself in a full count situation and then hit the ball hard to win the game for the team.  But I also know that does not always happen.  I know you will make mistakes.  Errors will be committed and you will strike out.  When those things happen I want you to know that my first instinct is to run to you and help you out.    But I know you will not like that.    You will only learn if you get to do things on your own.

I know that you have to go through all these to get better.  I fervently ask that I find the right words to say when you do come home after a bad game.    I would like to be the man you would want me to be, that I am able to help you up again and play the next day.  Because there is always a next day, a next game.  There is always victory after defeat.  Rewards after hard work.

When I watch you play baseball, you make my heart jump.  I get surprised when you make split second decisions on the field.  I am awed by the strength of your young body and the courage of your young heart.  I have faith in your abilities but you still leave me breathless when you perform above par.   You need to know that you make me feel so proud when you do well.  Under my breath I say,  “that boy is my son”. Though no one can hear I get to brag about you to the universe.

Small body , big hearts, huge expectations

Small body , big hearts, huge expectations

When there are wrong calls by the umpire, believe me, I want to get inside the diamond and beat him up.  It does not seem fair that these older guys get away with making you feel bad…hurting you the way you get hurt.   Sometimes I do shout out expletives because that is the only thing I  can do.  Deep inside me I understand that if I lose my temper, we both will lose more.    Most of the time though,  we both learn from this situation.  Life is like this too.  It will never be fair.  We both have to just take the blows on the chin, stand up and continue walking.    We both just have to get up, dust ourselves off and start over.  And you know, when I see you do that, I am reminded of what I need to do too.   To just watch and enjoy the game, because after all it is just a game.

Son,  I count every game that I am able to watch.  It pains me everytime I am unable to be there to cheer for you.  Watching you play may be the single most important moments we share together.  Moments where we can be who we are, little boys just playing a game as we prepare ourselves for life.