A Father/Son Event Frozen In Time

Coaching my Son in his first little league experience was to become a forever memory for both of us. I really wasn't a coach, but we parents always seem to think we know a better way. We give a lot of advice, and second guessing the coaches is in our script. I followed my lines to a tee.

This little guy provided my only chance to be the role model I always wanted to be, but along the way I have to admit, I got a little sloppy. Baseball had rules that I did not know, I found out that some of those rules are unwritten. The game was so much fun that I always wanted to participate. I guess that was just the kid in me . Showing off was not what I wanted to do, but making mistakes was not allowed either. However, it was the mistakes that taught me some of the greatest lessons in my life as a Dad.

There are some things that a Dad just needs to be careful not to do. There are times when Dad needs to take the back seat. This Dad learned that lesson the hard way.

It was the Father-Son game, and He was so proud that I would play in it with the other Dads. So was I. Being embarrassed is not one of my favorite things to do, so I was careful not to look like a Dork in front of that proud little boy. I did not want to embarrass him in any way. Embarrassing myself was also on my top shelf of "don't do's".

He made me proud as he stood so tall out there on second base. "That's my Son" was plastered all over my face. I cheered him on because I wanted to see him make the play of the game. I cheered him on because I loved him and wanted him to know it. I screamed and hollered because I wanted him to know that he is the best.

When he got up to bat I watched with anticipation and excitement. He got a hit. That was awesome! He ran with all his might to first base. The next batter, his best friend, needed to get a hit to move this little fireball of a kid on to second or third base. He did it, and my little man scored.

My turn at bat was not so pretty. We had to hit with the opposite hand, and for me, looking like a dork seemed to be inevitable. I did at least hit the ball, but having a little child throw me out was ugly. My Son loved it. He was not embarrassed at all. That made me feel a little better, I suppose.

Then the play that shook the very foundations of our relationship. This was the event that made me the smallest person in the world. My Son was up to bat. He was making his team look good. The first pitch was

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