Waiting on deck
The air is crisp. The night still creeps in on the early side of evening. The grass has yet to green up. Yet they are showing up on ball fields all over the place - young children clad in over sized jersey's and caps featuring Major League logos.
Logan's first outdoor t-ball practice was today. For the last 6 weeks, he's been playing in the indoor practice center our VERY serious Little League program boosts. (This town takes baseball seriously. It's almost comical.) A week from Saturday he will march with his team in the Little League parade complete with homemade banner to be judged. Later that afternoon he'll play in his first game.
We've been doing a lot of talking to set expectations. Oh you know, stuff like:
Me - Logan, do you know that the very best player in baseball today only hits .340-ish in his very best season? Do you know what means? That means for every 10 times he goes up to bat he's going to get a hit only 3 or 4 times. Even the very best players in the major leagues make an out more times than they get a hit.
Logan nods and takes a pretend swing with his make-believe bat at some imaginary ball.
Me - Ok, but let's think about this in terms of your t-ball game. If you go an entire game with just one hit what does that mean?
Logan (with a great burst of pride and enthusiasm) - It means I'm just as good as A-Rod!!
Look, if it prevents tears on the field, I'm ok with it. If he starts to call some super-powered, egotistical, monster agent to neogiate a contract with his t-ball team, then we'll reset his parameters of thought.