Baseball Season

Years ago my younger brother went through a nasty break-up that unfortunately led to divorce. Having to declare a side that pits brother against an ex-spouse in law is bad enough, but when kids are involved it’s even worse. Throw in the fact that this happened right in the middle of his helping coach the step son’s little league baseball team and you have the workings of a nightmare! My wife and I were childless at the time and had attended every game; sometimes they even let me be the bat boy! So what were we to do now?

You have probably already guessed that I chose to fill in for my brother as an assistant coach for the second half of the season. He was no longer present at any of the games, but I really think he liked the fact that I stepped in and took over his spot. Sadly he was actually divorcing two people at once, and while he played it cool, I know it bothered him. As sad as all of this sounds, my wife and I had a blast! The coach was great and the kids all loved him. We already knew the team members and they welcomed us in as though we had been there the entire time; you have to love the resilience of seven and eight year olds!

The season was right out of an episode of the Bad News Bears; worst to first with all of the drama of a made-for-TV movie. I watched several boys go from standing in the outfield with their glove on their head pretending to shoot down a low flying airplane to becoming competent baseball players, and I had really started to love them all. When the season drew to a close, the coach bought tickets for the entire team to attend an Atlanta Braves game. The tickets were for a Saturday afternoon game so we decided to go early, eat lunch, and watch batting practice. I was probably as excited as any of the kids and was up early that morning ready to go.

I was delighted to see that most of the boys had brought there baseball glove and a ball; we were very early and I felt good about our chances of getting some autographs during batting practice. We made our way down to the last rail at the edge of the field and I could hardly contain my excitement at just how close we were to some of my favorite players and coaches. Andres Gallaraga, John Smoltz and David Justice were standing around casually talking to each other and with members of the new Colorado Rockies in their flashy purple uniforms. I whistled and waved at the players, but it was a big wave and a “hey mister” from one chubby little freckled face boy on my team that brought one of the players over to the rail. Bingo! We got a bite.

I didn’t know much about the player that was headed our way, but he was definitely coming for autographs; he already had his Sharpie in his hand! The man played second base for the Rockies and I think his name was Eric Young, but he was very young and new to the big leagues. Eric had a confident swagger and was all smiles as he approached the rail filled with screaming men and boys. My heart did a back flip as he went straight for the excited little player standing next to me; the boy that had managed to call him over in the first place. He reached for the ball the boy was waving in his outstretched arm and was just about to ask his name when the boy yelled “Hey mister, can you take this ball over to Dave Justice and have him sign it?”

I guess I don’t have to tell you what happened next, but let’s just say we didn’t get a single autograph. I will add that Eric Young did manage to be civil; it was me that did all of the swearing and my fingers remained in the “choke position” for the rest of the day! But I think we all learned a valuable lesson that day; never look a gift horse in the mouth. A gift is a gift and even if it is not perfect, the least you can do is be grateful.