Little Boys and Sports

Oct 08


As I sit here sipping and typing, on the floor on a pile of pillows sits my football helmet clad son playing video football. I asked.... "So what's up with wearing the helmet to play a video game."

Without taking eyes off screen or game controls, he states, "I'm not sure, it makes the game more fun though." I will say it makes it more fun to look at him.

Today is the Big Game. He's baseball team has made it to play-offs. Since the weather has turned cold around here in the evenings, I've frozen my ass off sitting in the stands the last few games. But I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world.

Early in his little league career, watching the game itself is akin to watching paint dry as the boys throw more "balls" than hittable ones. Many balls aren't caught or thrown to right person. The kids have gotten much better with time and practice.

However, that's not why I love watching them play.

The first part has to do with just how friggin cute it is to see a bunch of 8-9 year old boys taking a game so seriously. I love them all dressed in their uniforms, some of them have even mastered the swagger of older players as they move about the field.

Their earnestness and enthusiasm makes me smile the most. They love the game and are trying so hard. The rare kid that strikes out (rare in that a pitcher was able to throw three balls in the strike zone!)... the kid's shoulders just slump over as he goes back to the dugout. Parents are calling out "good swing" and "next time."

The second part is about watching my own dear boy in action. Whenever he makes a good play that results in a run or getting the other team out... I can feel his pride and joy.

He's now at the age that he won't do a "happy dance" and wave to me when he does something good. Instead, he'll steal a glance towards the stands, suppress a smile and walk a little taller. In those moments, my frozen ass is completely warmed as I shout out an acceptable cheer with acceptable enthusiasm. What I'm wanting to do is yell out how proud I am and how much I love my little boy while jumping up and down. Call him the pet names I've had since he was a baby. Rush the field and hug him like crazy.

He'd simply die if I did that. So I don't.

The fun thing, the other moms in the stand will look my way and smile during those moments. Never the dads. Its because I think every last one of them do the exact same type of containment when their boy has just made a great play.

And we're watching our little boys become little men right before our eyes.