Tonight was an overcast night with a slight mist in the air. Parents huddled in the military green stands with anticipation on their faces. Grandparents carefully climbed the rickety wooden bleachers to join daughters and sons. Cameras and video cameras were all directed to the scene unfolding on the miniature field. Bright yellow and orange bodies moved from one spot to the next like a swarm of bees.
Tonight was the first t-ball game of the season.
Tiny bodies bounced from one space to the next. My son etched a mini-moat around the pitchers mound, claiming his territory. The serious look on his face settled in as he crouched down, glove in hand, toe scratching into the moist dirt. Let the game begin! Children bounded toward the white sphere that slowly bumped over the uneven grass. Laughter echoed from the crowd as child after child toppled over each other, smiles on all of their faces. It is a sight to behold.
My favorite moment has to be when my son stepped up to the black T that was carefully placed to cover home plate. His coach helped him settle into position and then stepped away. T carefully brought his bat up to the ball for one last kiss, pointed his finger towards left field, and smoothly brought the bat around. CRACK! Contact was made and the ball soared towards the pitchers mound. Child after child ducked as my son lumbered towards first base. The ear to ear grin on his face couldn't hide how proud he was. He rounded first base with second base in his sights. "T, come back....come back!", yelled the first base coach. "But coach, I have time.", T yelled back. The bases were loaded and no one was moving...T slowly worked his way back to first base. I screamed and congratulated him for an amazing hit. The smile quickly appeared back on his face as he flashed me a thumbs up sign.