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Life Lessons from the T-Ball Field

CK

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As the Cincinnati Red’s fight to be recognized as a contender in the NL Central, the baseball story below provides a different slant on the game. I scribbled this in a journal 18 years ago, and happily came across it today. The memory is sweet.

I’m a T-Ball mom. This year our oldest child started playing T-Ball with eleven others who have quickly become her good buddies. Attending practice twice a week, and games on weekends, we T-Ball parents get to observe what has to be some of the greatest treasures life has to offer.

We watch boys cheer for girls who are much better players than they. These boys haven’t yet been tainted with the notion that, at this sport, boys are supposed to be better than girls.

We watch outfielders (actually they’re standing in the dirt of the infield) drawing circles in the dirt instead of positioning themselves for the next batter. When it comes right down to it, they really have no reason to worry. Rarely does a ball reach this far.

We watch kids who know it doesn’t matter who wins or loses. What matters is if the parent in charge of bringing the snack remembered…and secondly, what that snack is.

The other day I watched two five-year-old boys laughing and patting each other on the back. One was playing second base. The other was a base runner for the other team. These two had more important things to discuss than the game being played right in front of them.

We watch coaches say nothing but positive, encouraging words to their players, regardless of how poorly they play. Last week our daughter’s coach told her she did a super job of fielding the ball when, in fact, she hasn’t even figured out that her mitt opens and closes.

To T-Ball coaches everywhere, thank you for your patience, kindness, and the lessons you teach to the kids — and for the memories you provide their parents.

 

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One Comment
  1. betsy permalink

    Sweet!

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