We want to give the boys something to do and some experience playing team sports. This evening we made them ballers.
Not basketballers, baseballers. Like their father before them, they too will play baseball. I remember living baseball all summer long. If I wasn’t at practice or a game I was playing pitch and catch or wiffleball homerun derby in the backyard. That was middle school. Going even farther back, I remember little league.
We just signed both boys up for baseball. Crash will play real games this summer instead of just practices like he had last summer. Bang will need a baseball mitt. He is the odd duck in the family because he’s the only one who throws left-handed.
They are already at odds with each other because Crash pretends to be a Baltimore Oriole while Bang pretends to be a Toronto Blue Jay. DW said to him, “We’ll have to get you some Blue Jays gear.” Then gave me a shifty eyed look to see my reaction. I just shook my head and pretended I didn’t hear it.
Having never been on an official baseball team before, Crash was full of questions.
Will we play on a real field? Yes buddy you will.
With lights and a stadium? No you’re not in the big leagues yet.
Who will be my coach? I don’t know.
Which field will we play on? The same one you did last year and field of which ever team we travel to.
We will travel to other fields? Like on a bus? No. Not on a bus. In our truck when we take you.
Is Bang signed up too? Yes, your contracts are signed. Unlike the big leagues, you don’t get paid, but have to pay.
Now to teach him some of the rules he doesn’t know. Forced outs. Fly balls. The positions. He’s already ahead of me when I was nearly his age. He knows which direction to run the bases. My dad stole my bases until I agreed to run the right direction. I suppose I’ll allow him to stay up to watch some O’s games with me and we can discuss the rules as they happen.