Big Mama a few days ago blogged about her 5 year old daughter playing t-ball...her first attempt at an organized sport. Reading this blog gave me some really strong memories.
Oh, ok you talked me into it...I'll share.
The first one was my first attempt at an organized sport. The difference in my story was that it was softball...and I was in the 6th grade. Now I would advise any of you out there with young children please I implore you for the sake of all humanity your daughter's first experience with organized sports should not be in the 6th grade. I am not sure if any of you remember what it was like being in 6th grade...granted I barely remember...but it was NOT the time to don sports shorts, be forced to run fast, hit a ball, catch a ball, and throw with any kind of accuracy...all with other girls...who OF COURSE were judging your every move, and how your body looked in those lime green sport shorts.
Obviously I wasn't athletically inclined or I would have started sports much earlier...at MY request. I was very into music...I loved to sing and play the piano. But for some reason my father thought I needed a sport to enhance my dull and boring life, or he just needed to fulfill a need of his, but had two sons just 3 and 5 years younger than I was who were both HUGE sports kids...so that couldn't be it. My father was an amazingly awesome dad, and I am sure he had the best of intentions and I realize that by being an only child himself, and me being his oldest he had NO idea the trauma associated with being an awkward geeky girl...being put in left field...barely able to hold the glove AND being told that you must catch a pop fly before you can go home...needless to say I was the LAST one EVERY time.
However, and it is not very often that I say this, but looking back I was glad that I was forced to do this. I enjoyed the "team" sport...I had good coaches who cared a lot...I got to bond with my dad on HIS level...and I got some good exercise (again not sure what you were like in 6th grade, but body issues were a big part of mine)
...I still don't recommend it.
The second was remembering my Andrew's first t-ball experience. I went to his Junior's baseball game last night and watching my now 13 year old make a spectacular diving catch in center field and hit a smoking triple to left field makes me forget his younger days.
BUT...he did used to be the little kid who would hit the ball off of the tee and then try to field it himself. I loved watching him play t-ball. He was such a little guy and LOVED baseball. In fact it was just last year some 8 years after his t-ball days that he actually turned into quite the baseball player. He has worked very hard to get where he is today but his passion for the game is no more than it was back then...when the weight of his helmet practically knocked him over.
...I secretly love to go to those fields and watch the, as Big Mama said, the players going after the ball like little ants going after the lone Dorito.
...such a mood lifter.