In The Dirt
The twins finished their first season of baseball on Saturday. While most of the season felt like a whirlwind of chaos, deadlines, and responsibility, I am so remarkably proud of the progress they made from March to May.
When we signed them up, I was nervous. Most of it internal anxiety, I think. I’m naturally shy and introverted -- I never played organized sports because of it. I tried to do my best to prevent my baggage from holding them back.
When teams were assigned, I texted their new head coach Ben just to give him a warning: “Hey man, Nolan is autistic, so I’m not sure how he’s going to handle this. He’s a great kid and very nice, but he might be hard to coach. We’ve never tried anything organized.”
He texted back, “Not a problem at all. I’d love some help on the field, so if you think he’d do better with you out there, sign up to be an assistant.”
My nerves doubled. The guy who never played (to be fait I’ve watched baseball all my life) coaching organized sports? Teaching four- and five-year-olds is like herding cats, I thought. Kesney and I said yes to the opportunity.
What a gift given to us.
I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect there to be much “practice” at this age. So, when we got the first group text instructing us to meet at the field, we were wholly underprepared. Here are the boys with no hats, gloves, cleats, etc., learning how to throw and catch.
Nowhere to go but up.
They did not take to the sport immediately. There were tears when the ball wasn’t hit their way, or they were instructed to run faster or try harder. Nolan would take his turn hitting then go sit in the bleachers with the rest of the family for the rest of the game. Hudson would throw his glove and hat down and stomp way out into the outfield where he didn’t have to participate. We thought we were in over our heads.
I’ll never forget watching the game “click” for Hudson in Week Two. To that point he had not done well hitting the ball off the tee. He’d swing and miss, the tears would start, and instead of sticking with it he’d storm off and the next kid would take his place in the batter’s box. As the last batter was done, he told Kesney he wanted to try one more time, so she put his helmet on him and sent him out.
I’m standing near first directing the kids, so I’ve got a great view of him as he gets ready.
He swings the first time. Miss. Shoulders slump. Bat hits the ground.
He swings the second time. Miss. Wailing starts. I’m sure he’s going to storm off the field.
He wants to, but he doesn’t. He composes himself and tries one more time.
Bang. Big swing knocks the ball past the kids on the other team. The 25 or so people in the stands, plus the players and coaches on both teams cheer him as he drops the bat and runs to first.
He’s giddy, trotting to first base with a huge smile on his face. I get to greet him when he gets there.
As we walk off the field after the game, each person comes up to him and tells him how well he did and how they were proud of him for sticking with it and not giving in to his emotions. I tell Kesney, “it’ll be different now.” It was.
The kid who didn’t want to play suddenly wants to spend his tablet or TV time in the front yard practicing his swing.
Nolan became much more willing to go with the flow once he understood the routine of our Saturdays.
“We play baseball, try our best and have fun, then we go get ice cream and play at the park.” (Bribery is the only effective parenting tool I’ve found.)
He had a great time interacting with the other kids, especially in the dugout between innings. He loved pontificating to the others about the planets, a certain animal, or whichever string of numbers he had rolling around in his head at the time. He loved running in huge loops around the bases instead of running in a straight line. I loved watching him do it.
Somewhere along the way I realized this is their last summer before kindergarten. Once they get rolling in formal education, they will become different: more structured, more mature, more organized. All good and necessary things for them to reach their potential.
But for now, I’m glad we were in the dirt this season to watch their beautiful mayhem before it gets taught (and coached) out of them.