Shut Your Pie Hole

Ever have one of THOSE days? You know the kind. The kind where you get on even your own nerves. The kind where you call yourself by your middle name and know you need a time out.

We are in the middle of week 5 of our showcase baseball summer series. Last week we had a by-week.  No baseball games.  This week we played games close to home.

We were scheduled to play two games on Friday and one game at 11:30 a.m. on Saturday. We got the first game in on Friday night and then the rain started.  It was hard to be upset over the rain as it was desperately needed.

We were on standby Saturday morning.  The tournament was still on but where and what time was yet to be determined. I had mentally prepared my day for an 11:30 a.m. game.  That now was not going to happen.

The Coaches had decided (Without first checking with me, how dare they!) that they wanted Tyler to put his full energies on pitching and were going to save him for the bracket play on Sunday. He has been playing 1st, 3rd, pitching and batting. Saving him to solely pitch for Sunday was not welcome news.  Look, I enjoy the game, but I didn’t drag my butt out of my air conditioned house to sit in 98 degree, 100% humidity weather for 4-5 hours to watch other peoples kids play ball.  I love you and all, but… (Did I mention I’m selfish?)

Needless to say, I showed up at the game on Saturday agitated (This may be the new norm for me. Walking through life just a little pissed off on a daily basis. I’m good with it.  Others, however, are having a difficult time embracing the NEW me). A little sympathy here. I had to adjust my schedule. GRRR! This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but I work from a plan and the rain (Seriously, Mother Nature, please check with my schedule first.) had already required a schedule adjustment. Now, I’m not sure if my son will be in the field, pitching or DHing, or just twirling his thumbs on the bench waiting for Sunday.

The first game on Saturday was baaaaaad. I say first game, because, oh yeah, it turned out to be a double header.  Another schedule change.  I had prepared for an 11:30 a.m. game not a 2:30 p.m. double header, but I digress.  As I was saying, our team stunk it up. Terrible. T-ball type mistakes. And, with every mistake I became more agitated.  My son was sitting, waiting for the “BIG” game. Their ACE.

This is probably shocking news, but I have a tendency to be a little hot-tempered (Again, shut up!). If you ever see me wandering around the ballpark, yes, something is bothering me. No, you should not check to see if I’m okay. No, I don’t want to talk about it. Yes, your survival will depend on you staying at least ten feet away from me. Yes, occasionally you should throw me sunflower seeds and Gatorade.  Fine! It’s FINE!

After the first 3 pitchers struggled, they put my son in. A closer? Oh this day just gets worse and worse.  My boy is not a closer.  He is a starter.  Are they wanting to see if I’ll stroke out? Combust? WTF to the nth degree? I griped. I whined. I complained. I vented. Saturday afternoon I walked more outfield poles than our pitchers ran.

Tyler closed the game. He pitched well. Three up, three down. He did his job.  Time ran out, game over. We lost. I knew he wasn’t pitching the next game and I contemplated just leaving. This is BS.  My diva mode was in FULL FORCE.

Second game started. I’m still sullen, but I had talked myself off the ledge and decided to have a better attitude.  I did not want my son to emulate my attitude because, truly, I know these Coaches have his best interests at heart.

Tyler gets put in the batting lineup for the second game. Feels like a consolation prize, but I’ll take it (Hey, a free trip to Iceland isn’t going to make me happy at this point. However, if you want to test this theory you can send the tickets to PO Box…). My homicidal emotions are dispelling. Not gone entirely, but manageable. There will be no blood shed today.

His first at bat he gets jammed. Grounds out and thrown out at first. Second at bat he gets a good solid line drive right to the 3rd baseman. Thrown out at first. Third at bat…. Zzzzzing.  And the ball soared, soared, soared, left of center and over the outfield wall. With two ducks on the pond, my son just hit a 3 run homer.  Whooo Hooo!!! Attitude adjustment.

And the moral of the story: I wanted to leave and had I taken my sullen, agitated butt home I would have missed a very magical moment. My life is not normal. It is not ordinary.  For whatever reason, the roads to our success have never been the routine route.  I embrace this…. or… at least I thought I did.  Today I learned, once again, you can’t control destiny. So, shut your pie hole, Princess, and just enjoy the game.

 

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