The boys have started playing baseball this year, or at least they will if the rain ever lets up. We’ve had three practices cancelled in the last two weeks. After watching them play last year, I decided to write about what must obviously run through a little boy’s head while he’s out there on the ball field.
Alright! Here’s the baseball park and all of my team! This is going to be fantastic!
The coach starts talking. It’s a pep talk before the game starts.
Man, coach sure is talking a lot. I wish he would stop. Wow! The sky sure is a pretty shade of blue. Oh, and if I look up, I can see the bill of my hat in the sky. I wonder why it looks like that.
One of the assistant coaches pats each of the boys on their backs to pull them out of their respective trances and remind them that they need to go play the game.
It’s my turn to go out into the field! I should run there as fast as possible.
Runs very fast to get out to his spot.
I’m all the way out here in the field. Hmmm. That boy is really far away from me. That boy on first base is really, really far away. Where’s my brother? There he is! There’s no one to talk to out here. Look! A flower! I want to pick it and see if it’s just as pretty up close.
(There’s a mother in the stands now yelling at her son to quit picking flowers and play the game.)
I wonder why mom is yelling at me. Oh yeah, I’m at a baseball game. There’s a baseball right over there. I’ll go get it and throw it to my friend.
The boy throws the ball to the wrong player and away from the pitcher and the runner.
What? I threw it the wrong way? But I wanted to throw it to my friend.
The game resumes.
These rocks are really cool. I wonder how many I can fit into my hat.
Why is Dad yelling at me now?
Oh look, it’s time to run back to the dug out. I’ll run really fast so they’ll let me bat first!
The boys (and girls-I don’t actually know if there are any girls on this years team due to the rain outs-it’s still co-ed this year) all pile into the dug out. The coach and assistant coaches block the kids into the dugout and direct them to sit on the bench. Someone has a list as to which kid bats next.
Why don’t I get to bat first? It’s not fair! I want to bat now.
I wonder when I get my snack. I’m starving.
Finally, the game ends and no one knows the score. The boys will be covered head to toe in dirt from sliding into base and filling their hats with rocks and dirt and the first words out of their mouths will be, “Mom, I’m hungry. When can we eat?”
I love baseball season!