Peewees and the Dads
Saturday was the first T-ball game for one of my grandsons. The day was forecast for bright sunshine and perfect temps all that day and the next. But as the day wore on, clouds gathered promising another round of rain–but we ventured out to Crosby. Parking was limited but we found a spot for my truck–I like to have two spaces to turn into–not just one shrimpie sized one.
On to the field.
T-ball is a new sport for us–so we puzzled through some of the rules.
The field is about half-size.
There are a lot of kids on the field.
The pitcher pretends the throw the ball which is perched on a stand for the batter.
The umpire hides behind the catcher trying to control his laughter.
Dads must patrol the dugout to maintain order, prevent the team members from bashing each other with their bats, line up the batters and be sure they have their helmets on.
Somehow the umpire determines when an inning is over–whether it is a combination of outs or runs or time he spends squatting was uncertain.
Once a ball is hit, the batter is struck with awe that he actually hit the ball and has to be told to run to base by one of the Dads.
Somehow no-one ended up in the scoring area…one from each team. to keep the official score but the Dads had it all figured out.
When a run was made-there was much leaping about with enthusiasm–and not just in the bleachers or sidelines covered with moms, grandmas, aunts, uncles, siblings, and assorted others who just like to watch short little people run around bases.
No rain–just a few sprinkles on our way home.
and yep–that is the best T-ball player on the team. He inherited all his athletic prowess from his Daddy.