an ode to t-ball

I wrote this post after Gray started t-ball on my health confessions blog and wanted to include it here, as well.

Lessons In Sports
 june 21st. 2012

Confession: I’m not naturally athletic.

I bet none of you could have guessed that. (;

My husband wrestled in school, but wasn’t huge into sports, either. {He always loved fitness/weights/running, though.}

Enter exhibit A.  We have kids.  Of the male gender.  

Holy cow, what do we do with them??  How do we encourage something that didn’t come naturally to either of us & wasn’t something we really grew to love until we were adults??!  

Enter exhibit B.  T-ball. {4-6 year olds}

We signed Gray-4 years old-up to play T-ball.  He is his mother’s child and wanted nothing to do with it.  He said, “I hate t-ball.”  I reminded him he’d never actually played.  We went to his first practice & he did awesome.  Totally listened to his coach, tried his hardest, and really enjoyed himself.  So much that he was telling everyone, “I am awesome at this game!”  He’s done great at all his games, too.  He listens, tries to improve, semi pays attention, and usually hits the pitched balls without having to use the tee.  He obviously doesn’t live for it like some kids on his team though, and will tell anyone listening that he “hates running,” and “only likes batting, playing catcher {which consists of standing straight as a statue wearing the cool gear while balls fly around him}, and playing at the park before/after games.”  He also has a lot to learn about being a team player & the “there is no i in team” concept because he tells us he wins every game all by himself.  (:

Watching him play brings back a slew of memories for me.  My parents put me in t-ball around the age of 5 & here are the things I remember:

-Idolizing two older girls named Christy & Brandi.  I thought they were athletic Godesses or something.  They could throw AND catch, bat without using the tee, and were super nice & helpful to all the younger kids, not to mention super cool.  I followed them around like a puppy & wanted to be just like them…I just didn’t want to work very hard to do it. 

-HATING the outfield.  It was so boring!  I mean really, how often do you actually get the ball when you’re way out there & playing with a tee anyway??  I remember sitting-multiple times-criss cross appleasuace, and picking dandelions off the field.  My parents would desperately be yelling for me to stand up & watch the ball, but I just thought, “it’s so hot!” and “what’s the point?”

-I don’t have a memory of this, per say, but I bet my dislike of running started in t-ball.  I’m sure I was pretty slow then and realized that running=hard work, so I didn’t want to participate in anything close to that.  

-The ONLY saving grace-besides my friends & great coaches-all season was the treat at the end of the game.  I think when everyone else was thinking, “I hope I get to catch or throw a ball tonight,” or “I hope I hit a homerun,” I was thinking, “I cannot wait for the snack.  I totally hope it’s cookies & chocolate milk….or a popsicle!…or chips…”  I just wanted to eat & be done with the physical activity aspect.  That really hasn’t changed much. (; 

So when I look at Gray in the outfield covering his face with his mitt, or loping slowly from base to base, I yell at him to watch the ball & to run faster, just like my parents did.  But I also laugh quietly to myself because I know that t-ball isn’t a dealbreaker.  If he doesn’t naturally excel or adore this sport it doesn’t mean he won’t love any sports or be completely unathletic.  

And I hope that someday he’ll thank us for encouraging {read: forcing} him to do hard things that he didn’t necessarily always love.  Because I’m sure grateful to my parents for pushing me outside my comfort zone….in t-ball and beyond.