Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Why Mothers Have Gray Hair

Pubescent One's team is playing in the State Championship this week. It's tough going, because only the top two teams from each district make it to State. There are no easy wins here.

So far, we're one and one.

The first game, we fought hard, but lost 5-0. The other team scored five runs in the first inning. Our lead off pitcher was struggling a bit and loaded up the bases. Then, a player on the opposing team hit one over the fence. Ouch.

We held them for seven innings with some excellent fielding and pitching, but we just couldn't seem to get any runs on the board.

The next game, we won 22-6. The first pitch of the game, our lead off batter hit one over the fence, which of course, was a great way to start the game and boost morale.

We were, quite simply, on fire. We were pitching well, we were fielding well, we were hitting well.

I felt really badly for the the other team. We've been there, more than once. And it's not fun. They rallied for a while, but then the fight just went right out of them. It was very obvious when they just gave up and I wanted to yell encouraging things to them.

Normally, there is what's called a "mercy rule" in which the game is called when one team gets too far ahead. The stipulation for this is 15 runs ahead in the 4th inning, or 10 in the 5th.

The purpose of this rule is to let a team lose with their dignity intact and hopefully, without destroying their morale.

But this is a State Tournament. No run limit. No time limit. No mercy rule.

So we played on.

During the last inning, we could just not get out. Those poor boys just weren't even trying anymore, and the inning dragged on, and on, and on, and on.

Our coach stopped giving the signs to steal. He stopped sending batters onto the next base when errors were made. He even instructed one batter to bunt on the 2nd strike, which is an automatic out.

It was brutal.

But that's not what I wanted to tell you about, really.

My son pitched the first three innings, when the other team still had some fight in them. Despite the crushing loss, they were really a quite competent team. They had some very strong batters. It just so happened that thay day, we were fielding better than they were batting.

There was a moment during that game, when I feared my son had been mortally wounded. It's the kind of moment that every pitcher's mother dreads.

Pubescent One threw a beautiful pitch right over the plate. It was thrown hard and it was hit hard...straight back at Pubescent One. It was hit so hard that I didn't even see the ball as it shot back at my child's chest. I heard a CRACK, and then, less than a second later, I d heard a sickening SMACK and watched with sick horror as my son grabbed his chest.

It was like....CRACK-SMACK!!

I was on my feet reaching for my cell phone, ready to dial 911, when my son curled upright...and grinned. He held up his glove to show the ump.

He had caught the ball.

Seriously? I almost passed out.

The umpire called time, walked out to the mound and spoke to my son briefly. They both laughed, and then the Ump patted him on the shoulder and returned to his position behind the plate.

Soon after that the inning ended and the team made their way into the dug out. I went over to talk to Pubescent One.

"Dude, c'mere." I said, crooking my finger at him.

When he was bent toward me, grinning, I said,

"Do you need to change your underwear?" I joked.

"HA! That's what the Umpire said Mom!"

"Did he really?"


"Well do you?"

"No. But that did scare the crap out of me."

"Me too, Dude. Don't do that again."

"It wasn't me! It was the batter! I just reacted. That was nothing but luck, Mom."

"Don't I know it babe."

Gah. You try to make good choices for your kids, minimize risks, assess danger. But you can't keep them safe from everything, no matter how hard you try. Not unless you shut them away from the world.

Sometimes I think that's not such a bad idea.


  • At 8:56 PM, Blogger Middle Girl said…

    Oh my freakin' gosh. I am soooo glad my son never played baseball. Daughter played fast-pitch softball and that was hard enough.

    Soccer, even is fraught with gray hairy moments. Ack!

    I would say thank goodness they're grown up now--but it just never stops. Ack!

    I'm glad he's ok and that the team is playing so well.

  • At 9:20 PM, Blogger Crazed Nitwit said…

    My boys both pitch and I have been there, waiting for one of them to pitch, hoping they don't mess up, hoping no batter hits the ball at them.

    You could try and shut them away but at 18 they'd want out, big time.

    Best of luck to you and the ball team.

  • At 11:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    And, even if your kids don't do sports, they will find another way to terrify you...

  • At 7:17 AM, Blogger Avalon said…

    Great reflexes on that kid!

  • At 11:31 AM, Blogger Kim said…

    Man! Why can't we just wrap em up in cotton and put them in a giant tupperware to keep the young and unhurt?

  • At 1:10 PM, Blogger mamatulip said…

    Woah. That's one helluva story.

  • At 6:35 PM, Blogger Daisy said…

    CC Sabathia caught one like that last week - your son is in good company!
    I'll never forget taking my son in to the bathroom during a game, coming out and hearing people calling out to my daughter asking if she was o.k. What? She'd been hit with a pitch. Bruised, but not injured. But oh, the mom guilt!

  • At 9:25 PM, Blogger Girlplustwo said…

    in those moments the distance between you and he must have seemed immense.

    and 22 runs? now that's some baseball.

  • At 10:14 PM, Blogger SUEB0B said…

    It is a wonder mothers survive these things.

  • At 11:15 PM, Blogger Green-Eyed Momster said…

    Good thing he's got a good eye and fast reflexes. That would have killed me and I definately wouldn't have caught it! I WOULD have needed new pants just watching that happen!!!
    Thanks for stopping by! I kind of regret not getting a tattoo of Cartman from South Park. Because, THAT would have been funny until I was at least 60 but probably not after that!!
    If you decide to get one, go for a fleshy area. The lower back and spine area is very painful. You think I would have thought about that huh? Duh!
    Big hugs!!


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