Sorry 'bout that!

For a long period of time sports was not even a small part of my life.  Sports wasn't something my Dad watched, nor my husband, it wasn't something I was even remotely interested in.  Than in 1986 something happened that would eventually change that attitude for at least a decade of my life.  My first son was born followed eighteen months to the day by his younger brother.

  Looking back it almost seems like they were born with a ball in each hand.  They spent hours playing with each other.  One time I was standing in our living room, visiting with their oldest sister's mother-in-law as they played basketball all around and between us, shooting hoops at the little goal which was permanently affixed to our front door.  I grabbed them by the arms and said "Boy's, stop it!  That is so rude!", to which they answered, "But Mom, you're standing in the middle of the court"!

If you want to bring on instant nosatalgic tears from me, just drive by a little league baseball field, filled with little boys about seven or eight years old, playing their little hearts out.  If parents let it, this is when sports is at it's finest.  UNLESS they have been tarnished by overcompetitive parents, this age group of boys can be an absolute delight.  The lack of testosterone on the field or court let's it be just a game, just for fun, not the ultimate test of manhood!

I remember one incident that showed just how innocent sports can be at this age.  When our boys were in the Championship game of the season end tournament, we ended up playing the other team from our same home town.  The umpire's told our coaches that they were concerned about both teams being from the same small town so one of the rules would be that they couldn't call out the name of any of the members of the opposing team.  I know this rule was to keep them from making the "hey batter, batter, batter, batter - swing" chant from becoming personal.  So the coaches had a huddle with the boys and told them they knew this would be hard since the other team was made up of their friends, but during the game, not to use their names.

 My youngest son Kyle was the pitcher and at bat was one of his best friends Cole.  As often happens with this age group, Kyle hit Cole with the pitch.   Kyle immediately calls out "Oh, Cole, I'm sorry"!  You could see by his little body language that he realized he had committed the ultimate no-no, so he looked down at the ground, lowered his voice several octaves and said in the most macho voice he could muster "I mean, sorry 'bout that."  Even the umpire who'd given the rule had to hide a smile!  I don't remember who won the game, but I'll always remember when concern for his  friend outweighed concern for the win.