What Life Throws Your Way

You haven't really lived until you've sidelined a T-ball practice for kindergarteners. 

Their first game is tomorrow and coaches Jeff and Bobby Jo struggle to teach eight little kids with varying skill levels the organized game of baseball.  The only girl on the team, Lilah, is up first with a white flower barrette pinning back her massive mound of frizzy jet-black hair.  Lilah is headstrong and whirls her pink polka dotted bat defiantly through the air with style but no contact. 

Another boy, Connor, screams at the top of his lungs when he runs from base to base.  Logan prances up to home base in his spanking new orange helmet and Old Navy tracksuit, but struggles with swinging the heavy bat across his body.  The bat's momentum whirls him around in a full circle.   

Loudmouthed, older sister, Trisha "coaches" from the sidelines as she pushes her little brother, stroller and all, onto the field in the direct path of the pitch.  She gets shouted off the field and play resumes. 

Coach Bobby Jo yells, "Get in your ready positions," and all eight kids squat and perch their elbows on their knees with gloves aimed at the batter - a batter who has his legs spread so far apart he almost loses his balance.

Tyler swaggers up to bat chewing his Dubble Bubble, confident in his obvious superior grasp of the game.  "Something tells me we have a slugger on our hands," Coach Jeff yells from the pitcher position.    Veteran player, Carter, yells from first base, "I'm going hard on you Tyler!" 

Tyler is up for the challenge.  His eyes gleam as he addresses the plate with authority.  The whole field grows quiet.  You can feel the anticipation in the air.  "Get in your ready positions!" The kids squat down in unison.  Crack.  Tyler makes contact and jets off to first.

We parents on the sidelines are doubled over in tears at the organized chaos.  We have our own hilarious real life version of "Sandlot" and have to wonder if the other team's are as bad as we are. 

I'm a little worried.  Will my competitive, aggressive, perfectionist athlete son be happy playing on a team with a bunch of happy-go-lucky kids who could care less about baseball? 

I have to wonder if their are teams full of other aggressive, competitive and talented athletes.  Are we going to be the laughingstock of the league? 

But, when I look out at the field, my son is having a blast.  He's enjoying the game for the fun of it.

We could all take a lesson from this ragamuffin crew.  They didn't have to be perfect or beat anyone.  They weren't playing for the points.  They just had to express themselves.  Lilah didn't care if she missed the ball every single time.  She just liked swinging her polka dot bat!  They didn't worry about each "at bat" and whether of not it would be good enough for the onlookers.  They just tried to make the best of each throw and each opportunity. 

Maybe we adults should take some pointers.  Instead of worrying about the score and our "batting averages," we should concentrate on getting to know our team, developing team spirit, making the best of every opportunity, what life throws our way, and maybe running from 1st to 2nd base yelling at the top of our lungs. 

If we did this, I think life would seem a little more enjoyable and in the moment.  We could take our eyes off of the unreachable goals and back on what is happening right around us.  Because, sometimes what is happening in the present, everyday life is really what life is all about. 

Forty-five minutes later, we've gone through the lineup and head to the dugout.  The team receives their game gear - kelly green hats and matching t-shirts.

Tyler is excited for tomorrow's game.  He doesn't seem worried that other teams may be better and more prepared.  He's happy in his place on the team and confident that he will make the best of whatever life throws his way.