I’m kidding.
No I’m not.
This time though I’m not talking football. No…my Ben decided this year he wants to try
baseball.
We’ve had an interesting go of organized sports with
Ben. Two years ago he showed quite a bit
of interest in playing football like his big brother. As a kindergartener, it meant he would be
playing no-contact flag football. This
was of course before we had a diagnosis for Ben, other than ADHD. I recall his first few practices, with his
uber-serious grumpy old man face, watching him aimlessly meander around the
field, cutting in line in between drills without realizing he was pissing off
his teammates, seemingly more interested in the overgrown dandelions than the
coaches or plays. Was this really the
right choice? I recall how the older two
handled soccer when they were only slightly younger than Ben, and his behavior
didn’t seem too far-fetched. It was a
struggle to get him through the season.
He didn’t appear to enjoy the practice or the games. He didn’t make friends with teammates. The coaches were frustrated. I remember the day I tried having the
conversation with the coach that Ben was a little…different. And as I was attempting to explain some of
the struggles Ben has experienced I glanced across the field to find Ben not
throwing the football with his friends or playing chase with the others…rather,
he was several yards away already climbing halfway up the 20-foot baseball fence. By himself.
Naturally.
He gave flag football a shot again last summer and to my
surprise…he enjoyed it! He smiled. He participated. Enthusiastically, I might add. He was good too…aggressive, fast,
cooperative. It was so much fun to
watch. Of course he had his moments…his
days…when everyone and everything pissed him off and he wanted nothing to do
with any of it. Thankfully those moments
were few and far between. Being a
football player has given him common ground with his big brother, who he
admires so very much. While I think Ben
has really cherished having that connection with Timmy, he is starting to feel
the need to branch out and try something that just might be HIS thing. So when the baseball flyer went out to the
kids at school, guess who was at my desk with a pen and a stoic face and my
checkbook. Yep. I couldn’t say “no”.
So we signed him up.
And before we knew it, it was time for new player evaluations. Time to stand in line and wait to test his
throwing, catching, fielding and batting.
How will he compare? We are by no
means a baseball family. If there aren’t
any shoulder pads involved, I got nothin’.
We got to the baseball center and found our place in line. We watched little peanuts no bigger than a
Chihuahua out there catching and throwing like pros. We saw bigger boys with ‘staches that I swear
will be asked to produce a birth certificate at some point this season. Ben quietly monitored their every move. He didn’t say much at all until it was his
turn. As they called his name he turned
to me and asked “but Mommy…what if I don’t do good?” Ugh.
This kid. I smiled, patted his
back and told him he would do just fine.
And he did. He’s not a natural
by any means. He throws like he has
pigskin in his hands. And he’s a lefty
which I think feels a little awkward.
But he’s not bad either, particularly considering he’s never picked up a
mitt, bat or baseball in his life. I’ll
take it!
They had the player draft last weekend and I received the
call from his coach on Sunday that we would have a parent meeting this week to
get schedules and talk about the upcoming season. He explained we wouldn’t have practice due to
cold temperature (given the weather trend this year, I’m assuming this season
will pretty much be postponed until June…ya know, when the temps skyrocket from
30 to 90 overnight).
We arrived at the gym in a school on the other side of our
town, saw his teammates scattered about the gym floor laughing and playing catch. The parents were
migrating toward the bleachers so I too made my way toward a seat…with Ben
still glued to my side. At no point did
he tug on my jacket and ask if he could join the boys, rather he watched
pensively and didn’t lose physical contact with me.
After the coach summarized what to expect this season and let’s not
forget the fundraising (thank God for the buyout option), I nudged Ben to “go
see what those boys are doing.”
I could hear the adults around me asking their questions, “so
where is this diamond?”, “if it’s too cold, when will the practices be
rescheduled?”…it all sounded like chatter a million miles away as I watched Ben
hesitantly scope out the boys on the floor.
He traced the perimeter of the gym, with his studious face, taking it
all in and by the looks of it, becoming more intimidated and less interested by
the minute. Not once did he jump in to
say “hi” or wait in line to throw with the others. Not one kid looked up at him and asked him to
play. Not one kid asked him his name or
even seemed to notice he was there. So
grew the lump in my throat. God I can’t
take rejection myself much less for my sweet guy. He finally made his way back around to me as
the parents’ voices suddenly came back to full volume.
Buddy, I thought you were going to go see what the boys were
doing?
I DID see. <sigh
complete with eye roll>
Yep, okay, buddy…I get it.
But what I meant to say was you should go PLAY with the boys, not just
see them.
Fine.
I watched again as he reluctantly headed back out along the
baseline of the gym. Just about that
time, the coach called all of the boys into the middle of the room. I glanced up to see Ben holding his ground
under the free throw line. I motioned
him to join the others, and in true Ben fashion, his hands went into his pockets
and he slowly swaggered his way to the group, Tommy-Lee-Jones-face and all. They introduced themselves chatted for a
moment then the coach turned and dismissed us all from the meeting. As I headed down the bleachers to get Ben I
could see him watching some of the boys returning to the balls to play more
catch. I leaned down and asked:
Buddy, are you ready to go?
Uh…I um…I don’t…
Do you want to stay and play for a few minutes?
Well, I uh…um…yeah, but…
What’s the matter, buddy?
With this horrendously hesitant and frightened face he
looked up at me and said:
But what if my new friends don’t like me?
(this is when that aforementioned lump turned into a
volleyball, prohibiting me from speaking.)
My eyes shot straight to the ceiling, hoping the tears would
roll back into my head…I’m surrounded by strangers for Christ’s sake. THERE’S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL. I got it together after a few seconds, knelt
down next to Ben and told him:
THAT is impossible, Ben…how could they NOT like you?? You are funny.
You are nice. You are a good
person. They will like you. You just need to help them get to know
you.
And with that he headed over to one of the coaches who was
throwing to another child and began playing catch. Of course he made zero attempt to throw with
the other child, only the adult. This I expected. But dammit he jumped IN.
I spent the drive home praising his bravery and asking what
he thought of the coach who was throwing with him. He seemed pleased with himself and with the
people he met. My heart was full. And scared all at the same damn time. As it usually is. I worry what practices will bring…what games
will be like for him. I wonder if
baseball is a good sport for him considering what he struggles with. I hope that I’m making the right choices for
him, to push him a little, to build his confidence. I’d say it’s worth feeling a little fear in
my heart for him to experience success.
We’ll see what this season brings…and I’ll try to keep the crying at
bay.
