Tuesday, April 10, 2012

A father, a son, a game that binds them.

A baseball field-brownish and clumpy-awaiting the action of youth, and the dream of their parents. Someone will bring out the tiller, the rake, the shovel. Someone will fill that hole, pile that mount, line draw all the bases before baseball season starts.
This is what parents do.
You can do this, kid, a father will tell his son , the kid's glove bigger than his two hands combined. All it takes is practice and focus.
Famous last words~undulating salve to all hurts. Practice and you'll be perfect, a champ even, just remember what I taught you. Just practice and stay focused.

I knew nothing of baseball when my baby joined that first team, the uniform a bit too big, the cap even bigger. His father came out of his dark laboratories and became the coach, in a bright park on a hot afternoon. Ah, I thought, this looks like fun. On that first day,  I worried about my husband getting sunburned, forgetting to drink enough water, forgetting to pace himself, too unaccustomed to the outdoors at his age.  I didn't worry about the kid. He was outdoorsy, full of energy, bruising for a challenge in each sport he took up.

At the end of that  practice, and after each practice and  game after that, all muddy and sweaty and exhausted, the extra equipment safely stashed in the back seat until the next time, we drove to McDonald's for burgers and fries. The American memory came wrapped up this way on these afternoons.

My husband no longer coaches baseball. Yet, every spring, he still drives or walks to the field, and talks to parents and coaches and kids. He and his son played ball together; and that, he will remember every single spring.

8 comments:

  1. Beautiful. The tears are running down my face. They shared a bond that was so important.

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  2. This is a very moving and touching piece. It brings to mind my own father and my brother and then my brother and his son -- what is it about a man and his son and a baseball bat -- brings back so many memories -- and I think it's one thing that remains a part of the American consciousness...

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  3. Those things that have ended up meaning the most to me are the ones that took extra effort, that kept me off the sofa when that's where I thought I wanted to be at the end of a long work day. I had similar experiences with soccer and kids and I value every minute of it. Glad you and your husband have these memories.

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  4. One of the things I'm looking forward to with Evan. Putting him in AYSO & Tee ball next year. :)

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  5. How lovely, Rosaria. Another wonderful memory.

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  6. The passion for sports is timeless, it's not something people grow out of... great post :]

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  7. You write beautifully, Rosaria. I feel like I have witnessed something private and tender.

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  8. The time we spend with our kids while they grow are important not to just the kid but the parent as well. It's nice to see he still goes there.

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