I Think You Will (Rattlers 2015)

We have established that I took a ride on the crazy train this summer and allowed our family to juggle four teams at one time. Two of those teams were travel teams. I went in knowing there was a good chance I would regret the decision, but Jaron was so excited to be joining this team. Nothing lights him up quite like playing sports. He tries to be reserved a lot of the time, keeping a straight face whenever possible. But sometimes, when he has a ball in his hands, and does something impressive with it, he forgets how much he wants to be a man, and he smiles a real smile with teeth. I have to be quick to catch it. He does not let it linger, but I see it every chance I can, and I love it. So when I find something that puts a big smile on his face, I almost always say yes to him. 

As one of the youngest kids on the team, he really looked up to some of the bigger boys. He tended to walk a little taller and speak a little lower when he was around them. I knew going in that he was the new kid to an established team, which might be a struggle for a quiet guy. And I knew that as one of the little guys, there was a good chance he would spend some unfamiliar time on the bench. I was completely fine with this, but somewhere in the back of my mind I was concerned that this would put him off from baseball and diminish some of the fun for him.

I had nothing to worry about. Although I know he tried, he could not contain his smile when he played with the Rattlers. He learned a lot about hitting and throwing mechanics, leading off and stealing bases, and pitching from the wind up and the stretch. He started diving head first into bases whenever he got the chance and he loved every minute of it. He played some different positions and always got to bat, and I felt like he improved in several areas, including confidence.  

 At the end of the season, at our team celebration, I did not realize Coach Davis was going to be handing out awards. I had a flashback from the year Jaron was the youngest kid in preschool and he got the dreaded “most improved” award. I am not saying you shouldn’t be proud if your kid gets that award, but to me it has always said something like “you were pretty terrible when you started but now you are not so bad.” I wondered what he would come up with for my son but I had a feeling it would be a repeat from preschool. When it became Jaron’s turn to get his certificate, Thad said, “No matter what I asked this kid to do, or where I asked him to play, he did it, he never complained, and he tried hard. He is the most coachable kid on this team, and that’s why I am giving him the Most Coachable award.”

I might have cried a little. I know. There’s no crying in baseball. But this is not a “Most Improved” award. In fact, this award has nothing to do with success or failure. This is not about his batting average or caught fly balls or how many stolen bases he had. To me, this award says that Jaron is a good kid who does what he is told, gives great effort, and doesn’t talk back. Between you and me, I think all of my kids are good kids, but I am their mama, and nobody has loved them longer than me. Except maybe Jesus. I am programmed to look for their good qualities. Nothing touches a mother’s heart quite like someone recognizing the good in her child. Best. Award. Ever.  

And something I have learned about travel teams is this: they are like everything else in life. Some of them are good and some are bad. Some are loud and obnoxious and some are snobby and rude. Some of them really do have egos that a baseball dugout cannot contain. But some of them are pretty great. They have parents who get along and encourage the boys instead of tearing them down. They have coaches who will sit a boy on the bench for throwing his helmet in the dugout, because they value character over talent. I am so grateful Jaron got invited to play for one of the great teams. If you look at the Rattlers win/loss record, you might not be very impressed. But if you look at the things that matter the most, I think you will. 

ALL IN - Megan's First Ball Season

Megan's 1st Softball Practice. Ever.

I started Madison in rag ball before she was ready for it. She cried in the dugout and was too scared to go out onto the field. I remember my friend, Jessy, having to lead her out by the hand and stand by her until she was comfortable. I was so eager for my kids to begin enjoying youth sports that it never occurred to me that she might not enjoy it at 4 years old. Lesson learned. My perspective had changed dramatically by this summer as I considered when to start our third kid as opposed to our first. We did not sign Megan up to play at the YMCA when she was 4, and we did not have her play for Atlanta when she was 5, either. The logistics of getting her to 3:00 practices along with our day jobs before she was in school just didn’t work for our family. We considered waiting one more year, foregoing tee ball altogether, and starting her the next year in coach pitch softball.   I won’t try to lie here, the concept of juggling three kids in sports with our work, garden, animals, and hay fields seemed pretty daunting.  

But something else that changes dramatically between child #1 and child #3 is that child #3 has been to LOTS of ball games--thanks to her older siblings and cousins.  She has heard what coaches say about how to swing a bat and she will shout it out to players if she sees something they should do differently. She already knows the rules and which way to run to get to first. She pays attention to the score board, celebrating a win and shaking her head at a loss and she WANTS this. She wants to play and have practices of her very own. She wants to tote around her own bat bag and helmet and have a blue shirt with her own number on it. She is ready. 

What I can say about my youngest child when it comes to softball is this: She is ALL IN. She swings the bat as hard as she can. She runs as fast as she can. She chases the ball wherever it may go. In her first at bat in her first game ever, she got a double. I looked up from where I was coaching at first base to remind her to watch her third base coach to know when to run, but she was not on second base. She was about ten feet towards third with an awesome lead off, looking to steal. I had to let her know that sadly, she had to stay on her base until the ball was hit again by one of her teammates. That not only could we not lead off, but we could not steal yet, either. She rolled her eyes and asked, “Why can’t we just take a few steps off the bag?”

  

A couple of games into the season, she was playing center field when there was a runner on third base. The ball was hit to her. She got it and ran that base runner down before he made it from third to home to tag him out. She said she didn’t want him to make a point even if they don’t keep score yet.

I know that maybe there is a good chance that her competitive nature is a little over the top. I know how irritated she was about how they did not keep score during her first season, and I watch how she crosses her arms or stands with her hands on her hips when her siblings do not have the lead in their games. I think she kind of tends to give her opponents a little bit of stink eye when they get on base, but I have to say that sports also light her up and she has a blast out there. And I love to watch her play.

About midway through the season, I was standing out in the field with her team to help instruct the players on where to go with the ball. I was about fifteen feet away from Megan when the last batter came up to bat. When the last batter is at the plate, the play is at home, and all of the runners advance until a fielder steps on home plate with the ball. Megan asked (loud enough for the other team’s coach to overhear, of course), “Hey, Mom, if he hits it to me, do I touch home plate or knock him down?” The other coach busted out laughing as I just looked her with my mouth open. I couldn’t even deny that I was this little girl’s coach…and her mother for that matter! The little boy in question hit the ball, luckily NOT to my daughter, and after the game we had a long talk about tagging a base runner versus “knocking him down.”

I cannot wait to see what season two will bring. 

SWAT (Softball With AttiTude)

If I were a mother who brags, I would post a team picture of the 2014-2015 12U SWAT team and I would tell you that they placed second in the Show-Me State Games. I would talk about pitchers, hitters, stolen bases, getting bunts down, making plays, and enthusiasm. Because those things were awesome, and I was so proud of all of these girls.

My hope when Madison signed up for this team was that she would improve her fundamental softball skills. Hitting, fielding, throwing, base running. I wanted her to learn more about all of the little things, because I have always believed, in any sport, that if you do the little things the right way, winning will flow from that. I think that doing the little things ultimately becomes the big thing. As our season comes to an end, I have been thinking about how far we have come since we began last fall.

The girls did improve their skills in many ways that can only be accomplished with experience.  At this time last year, when Madison approached the batter’s box, she was a girl who was trying not to strike out. Now, when she steps up to the plate, she is looking to smack the crap out of the ball. Her throws are more accurate, and she has become an aggressive base runner who is FINALLY ready and willing to slide. Most of the time.

I LOVE to watch young people gain life lessons through sports. Teamwork. Perseverance. Patience (Anybody remember any rain delays?). Commitment. Work ethic. Taking direction. Confidence. When we started out, a mistake or two would turn into a train wreck, and we took our share of losses. As the season went on, however, the girls developed the ability to regroup and move past a mistake, and we started bringing home medals. I think the girls learned that winners are not people who never fail. They are people who never quit.   

  Thank you SWAT coaches and parents for your willingness to give your time and energy to this team and to my daughter. For her lessons learned, the fun she had, and for helping out when I had to miss a game to take her brother somewhere else. Now that it is over, even with all we gained, it feels a little bit like we survived something. Maybe we did. Frigid cold, extreme heat, crazy hair, shoe emergencies, flooded fields, a tornado warning, and a switch blade surgery. Come to think of it, maybe winners are are people who never quit with parents who never give up!  

Decision Made

It was never my intention to have more ball teams than children at any given time. I always kind of assumed three kids meant three teams in the summertime. I was also slow to warm up to “travel ball.” I didn’t want my kids to get burned out or injured from too many games, and let’s just say I am well versed on the challenges that can be found within youth sports today. And that is not even mentioning the expense and time commitment involved. But somehow one summer I’m a mom with two kids in recreational ball, and then a short year later I find myself with two kids in recreational ball AND two kids in travel ball. This means I let my son play on two teams. How did this happen?

I had each child signed up for one team apiece, and started to plan my summer accordingly when Jaron got invited to play on a travel team. He really wanted to play. We only knew one kid and one set of parents on this team so I was a little leery to say yes. I mean, we have all seen BAD baseball parents and coaches. Especially on travel teams. The ones whose kids think they are heading to the MLB. The ones who value winning more than everything else and talent more than class. I have always been an advocate for the way sports can teach life lessons and develop character in kids, and I wanted to tell Jaron yes, but I knew I could not handle being part of a team full of egos so big that a baseball dugout could not contain them.

 

I spoke with the head coach and he encouraged me to let him come to a practice. He said we could both take a look at whether or not this would work for the team and our family. He said he would talk things over with Jaron, and my family could make a decision afterwards with no hard feelings either way. Jaron has always been a pretty quiet kid, maybe because his sisters are always trying to talk for him, and he can be very shy in crowds. The fact that he wanted to show up to a practice as the new kid, stepping far out of his comfort zone, spoke volumes about how much he wanted to do this.

When we got there, Jaron walked around some of the boys playing catch to find the head coach, shook his hand, and introduced himself. I stayed in the car for this part. Ladies, here is a difficult truth: There comes a time in a boy’s life when, although he loves you, it is not cool to have Mom hovering around all the time. Your sweet boy, no matter how many times you have rocked him to sleep in the past, will start to think of you most when something is lost or he is hungry, and otherwise will want and need to do a lot of things on his own.

So he practiced with these boys, and within about thirty minutes I could see (from a distance, of course) that he was learning more about base running already than he had learned in the last year of rec ball. I could see the coach stopping him periodically to work on fundamentals, and I knew that if he was interested in joining this team, I was going to have more teams than kids. I am a sucker for anyone taking the time to explain something to my kid, and I could see that this experience could be good for him.

After practice, I met Coach Davis and Jaron handed a paper to me for safekeeping. It was an agreement he had signed in hopes of joining this team. It outlined the team expectations and character qualities he should strive for throughout the season. Decision made.

Here is the thing that most people don’t want to say out loud, Sports Moms.  There are SO MANY bad things going on in youth sports today. It is completely separate post for another time. So when you find a team like this one that values things like attitude, effort, and honesty…you grab ahold of it with both hands and hang on. Even if it means you will have more teams than children. Even if it means more time on the road, less money in the bank, and getting even more behind on everything at home than you already are. Even when you know there is a good chance it will create late nights and cranky mornings.  In a few short years, Jaron will be done playing baseball, but if he cultivates the qualities on this list it will stay with him forever.        

Ode to Stephanie

I  remember when I was a teenager that if I was ever offended or disgruntled by someone, my dad would say, "It takes all kinds, Val." The lesson being that there are many kinds of people in the world, and we might as well learn to accept that and get along the best that we can. How boring would life be if everyone were exactly the same?

Over the years I have met many people, and I have learned that not only are there all kinds of people, but those people behave in all kinds of ways. I have met many people who are kind and compassionate. Loving. I know leaders and I know followers. I have met angry people and selfish people and people who think they know everything. I have seen people who epitomize patience, virtue, strength, and integrity, and those who are in too big of a hurry for me to get to know them at all.

Rarely, in my thirty-six years, I have met a person who is an absolute force of nature. You know this kind of person. They tend to brighten a room when they walk in. They smile at everyone they meet, even on their bad days. They strive to build others up and do the right thing...and they are disappointed when others do not do the same. They are optimistic, thoughtful, professional, and compassionate.  They remember all of your private jokes, and are able to laugh at themselves and enjoy life to the fullest. They take the time to follow your blog and provide feedback. They are fiercely loyal to their spouse, family, friends, and team, and make it a point to stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. When you meet a person like this, take notice. Your life will be better for it.  This is my favorite kind of person, and the world lost one of them well before any of us were ready.

Celebrating Easter

What I would like to record about the Easter of 2015 is that we celebrated. We did everything twice. We enjoyed two church services, two Easter Egg hunts, and two big meals with family and friends. Is it just me or does Sunrise Service get a little bit earlier every year? #happilyexhausted

Community Easter Egg Hunt

Round 1: Sunrise Service 

Round 2: Grandma's Church

Megan said, "Grandma Williams is a really good Sunday School teacher. She gave us candy!"

Game Day (A March Madness Post)

When I was fifteen years old, I wanted a gold charm with the number 21 on it. I mean, I wore number 21 on my jersey, on several t-shirts and shorts, and it seemed like the thing to do at the time to buy it in gold and wear it around my neck every day. This was before Amazon had everything your little heart desired and could deliver it to your door step in two days. We had to physically take ourselves to the store and look with our own eyes, in person, to find things. My mom took me to the mall, and I searched far and wide for a number 21 charm. To my shock and dismay, I could not find one.

I decided to get a charm in the shape of a basketball instead. It became my game day necklace, although over the years I also wore it often when we did not have a game. While it was not my first choice, I grew to love that necklace. When my basketball games were over, I started wearing it less. It spent several years in a drawer in my bedroom as I went to college, got married, and spent my days and nights thinking more about diapers and bath time than sports.

And then one day, in the blink of an eye, those babies in diapers became big kids signing up for basketball. Once again I was shopping for basketball shoes and knee pads and when they started having game days of their own, that golden basketball charm flickered somewhere in the back of my mind and I pulled it from the back of the drawer, slid it onto my favorite gold chain, and I started wearing it again.

At fifteen years old, it is easy to think about number 21 first. But looking back on things, I am glad I could not find my number. When I consider my most treasured memories from basketball, they do not have that much to do with number 21. My best memories have more to do with numbers 15, 20, and 50.

They have to do with numbers 10, 12, 14, 23, 24, 34, and 44. And they have an awful lot to do with the guy yelling on the sidelines who didn't wear a number at all.

I never considered that fifteen years later I would be wearing my game day necklace on the sidelines. Sometimes I am coaching and sometimes I am in the bleachers. I still really have no reason to wear the number 21 around my neck, but I wear my basketball charm as new memories are being made, and I celebrate game days. Not because I celebrate a game where you toss a ball through a hoop and try to keep the other team from doing the same. At this phase in my life, I feel like game days are not really about the game to be played. I think game days are more about every moment spent in preparation. Every trip to the store, every practice, every evening spent outside shooting in the back yard under the pole light, and every lecture passed down from parents to children. Every game of one-on-one with your brother (without a referee, mind you), and every team night spent watching Hoosiers.

Oh, I love to win. I love it when my kids do, too. I cheer and take pictures at every opportunity with every single trophy. I file away things I see that my kids need to work on before next time and I analyze each quarter in my mind on the way home in the car. Hindsight is 20/20, after all. But what I hope for even more than a win (I think;) is that my kids love to play as much as I love to watch them. That they will continue to root for each other. That they love their teammates and coaches, and that they learn to focus on the group as a whole more than the number on their own jersey.