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Carol Perkins: On watching the grands' games in person
After traveling to Texas to see the grandchildren play in person, Carol comes to a new conclusion about the practice.
Next earlier Carol Perkins column: Carol Perkins: Camping - ranch style and city style
By Carol Perkins
On our recent trip to Texas, our son Jon, the planner, arranged our visit so we could watch Eme's soccer game, Noah's baseball game, and Luke's lacrosse. My friends with grandchildren follow their sporting events. "I wish ours were closer," I have said to Guy many times. I now know why that would not have been a good idea.
At Eme's soccer game, she was always standing at the back of the field, and nothing exciting seemed to go on there. "I don't know what position that is, but it looks pretty boring," I commented to Jon. "She is defense and keeps the ball from going in their goal." I still thought that position looked boring. When the goalie got hit in the head with a ball, Eme moved to her position. Finally, she was doing something to watch. I wanted to see some action, although I did worry she, too, might get hit in the head.
The next day we went to Noah's baseball game. He is nine-years-old and was the number one seed in the league, so I was looking for a great game or at least bragging rights. If I wanted to see his best game, that wasn't it. As a pitcher, he has been known to strike out six consecutive batters. That day, he threw more balls than strikes. He walked two out of three and by the end of the second ending, he wanted off the plate. Was it because we were watching? "No, it is because he had a sleep over with his friend and they stayed up all night," said Jon. "He had a meltdown on the way out of the house."
Here is where I come in. At first Guy and I sat behind home, but Jon moved us out of Noah's view. However, his mom stayed put and could see each throw. From the left of home, I watched each pitch and contested two out of three. "That was a strike," I said to Guy. The twelve-year-old umpire didn't agree. "That can't be a ball; it was right across the plate," I said once again. At least fifteen throws looked like strikes to me.
At the end of the game, Noah complained to his mom that he knew twelve of his pitches were strikes. I agreed, but then his mother had to stomp on his pity party, "No, Noah, only two or three were called wrong. You just had one of those days. Shake it off."
This made me think of a time when Jon was pitching at Center College back in the 90's and was having a "wild" pitch day; a ball going 95 MPH and landing anywhere near a player's leg or knee was dangerous. One of the fans (a college kid) yelled something negative, so I turned around and said, "He is my son and I know he isn't having a good day, but would you mind not yelling at him?" The boy apologized and moved.
Luke's game was called off because of storms. For his sake, it was probably a blessing. I want them to do well, but when they don't, I hurt for them and fear some parent will make a crack and I'll have to make one back. I am better off getting a call telling me about the good games and never knowing about the bad. Wouldn't life be much better if we never knew about the bad?
(My new book, A Girl Named Connie, is available at Blossoms Florist and Boutique Unique, 507 Happy Valley Road, Glasgow, KY 42141, Phone 270-629-3597; the Edmonton/Metcalfe Chamber of Commerce, 109 E Stockton Street, Edmonton, KY, Phone 270-432-3222; and the Lighthouse Restaurant, 1500 Sulphur Well/Knob Lick Road, Sulphur Well Historic District, KY 42129. Phone 270-629-3597. And Also on Amazon.com)
Carol would love to hear from you at firstname.lastname@example.org or call 270-670-4913.
This story was posted on 2017-04-05 11:51:17
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