This time of year brings back fond memories of being a baseball mom like being frozen to the bleachers or sliding off them in a sweaty, melted heap. I also enjoyed soccer and track, but baseball was my favorite.
I played baseball when I was in 6th grade, so I knew a little more about it. I’m not sure why, but I was the pitcher, and I wasn’t very good. But I looked really cute with my red Converse tennis shoes.
Adam, my oldest, liked playing baseball, but it was sometimes hard to tell with him. One time the coach wrote ‘little man’ in big fat sharpie letters across the top of his glove, causing him much grief. He was not amused and didn’t want to be called ‘little man.’ His papaw took him to Florida one summer, along with his cousin Danielle. Adam said that country hit, ‘Little Man,’ must have played on the radio a million times in that 10-hour trip, where they were only allowed to stop for gas and gas station food. I should have warned him.
There was also that time when he received his new uniform and for some reason his pants were shorter than everyone else’s. As soon as I parked the car, he ran to the dugout and would not come out. He didn’t want anyone to see him. He was absolutely mortified. He was so cute though and I told him so, but of course, that wasn’t helpful.
My youngest, Sam, was more into soccer but he did play minor league one year. The first time he was ever up to bat, the bases were loaded. He smacked that ball and started running as fast as he could, passing all his teammates to make the homerun. He was on fire! His coach told him to go back to 2nd base, that he couldn’t pass the other runners. He was so disappointed but eventually made it to home plate.
One day, at Holston View, when Adam was playing, Sam ran up to me holding a baseball, a smile on his sweet little face. I said, “Take it to the concession stand and they’ll give you a free drink!” He marched off and then came back with hangdog eyes. I said, “What’s wrong, sweetie?” He said, “They said I could only have a fountain drink.” It then dawned on me that he thought that meant he could only have water out of the fountain. Bless his heart.
Sam was a hugger and not embarrassed to display his affection for his mama, especially when he did well at sports. Adam was more subdued, saving his hugs for home. I loved being a mama to my boys. They were my world, and I was theirs. Kenny worked hard and was either working nights or traveling. I was fortunate enough to work at jobs while they were at school. I was their biggest cheerleader, hollering whenever they caught a ball or made it to home plate.
Adam was more serious. One time, playing shortstop, he caught a ball from the pitch and also got a runner out at 2nd base. We were all stunned but he just kept on like nothing had ever happened. Sam was more apt to pick a dandelion or hug his teammates for doing well. He could hit and run those bases like nobody’s business. He would then make a beeline for me to give me a hug which made me want to cry from happiness.
I was that mom with a huge video camera. It wasn’t a handheld camera either. It sat on my shoulder and weighed as much as me, or at least it felt like it. I carried Sam’s tuba back then too, so the camera was a piece of cake.
As long as they wanted to play sports, I was willing to do whatever it took but I never pushed them. They never played baseball after leaving Holston View, preferring soccer and track. I miss those days, but I cherish every memory. I don’t miss Sam’s fascination with the port-o-potties though. Hand sanitizer would have been very helpful back then.
Karen G. Bruce 