Saturday was a crazy day, we woke up 4 hours from home, in an overpriced hotel, and drove through wind and snow to get to t-ball practice, went to a baby shower (girls only), then collapsed on the couch. We were four hours from home because we went to buy a new to us car that is wonderful and fun for the whole family, but we were all tired by the time we got to t-ball at 11 am and it was snowing so those of us not on the field were cold and in a sour mood. Now that I've set the stage let me explain the practice itself.
This was my son's first ever t-ball practice. He's been playing hockey for two years, he is fairly coordinated and can run. He is also four, just barely.
First thing he got to do was practice throwing the ball. This was fairly successful, he's done it before in the kitchen during a blizzard so he hit the coach near the glove almost every time. Then he went to batting practice.
Batting practice was different than throwing. My son has never hit the ball off a t before in his life. This did not slow him down and he was fairly successful at the practice station they set up near third base. He hit the ball twice and chased it down twice before the coach convinced him to hit the ball and stay there instead of going and getting it. His third and successful hit earned him the right to go to home plate and hit the ball. There were several other children set up to field the ball so when it was his turn he got to hit the ball and run the bases, here's what happened.
First hit was a line drive between second and third base, no one fielded the ball. A small boy with a red jacket watched it roll past his foot. Then a big kid went and got it, none of the coaches or parents really noticed this though, we were all watching my son. My awesome, slightly big for his age four year old running as fast as he could right past first base. He didn't even get near stepping on it. He ran out about 6 feet into the outfield before the coaches could turn him toward second, which he also didn't consider stepping on. He then ran past second and around, never leaving the grass. He turned about two feet past third and stopped at the practice batting station after the outfield coach told him to "go back to where you hit the ball." The hitting coach told him to "go step on the black thing where you hit the ball." He ran to home, looked at the t, gave the coach a "grown-ups are nuts" look and got in line to hit again. That's right, he hit a great ball, ran really fast, and never touched a single base. He had a huge smile on his face.
Then came his second hit, it was amazing, I don't remember where it went, I was busy praying he might step on a base. He ran fast, he missed first again. He got mad at the kid who tagged him without the ball. He stepped on second base to avoid another player who looked as though he might tag him. He stepped on third because there was a coach in his way. He sped home and stopped agonizingly short of home plate. Two out of four is better than none so we call it a success.
We thought batting practice was the best but the girls and I noticed that every ten minutes or so my son would stop and check out his shoes. He has some really nifty red, yellow, and black running shoes that I bought him just for t-ball and he likes them almost as much as he likes his jock, which is a different story that will stay in the family. He spent much of practice looking at his new shoes. He was looking at his shoes when he was playing right short stop, that's the made-up t-ball position between first and second, and the ball rolled right by his foot. He saw the ball. He picked up the ball and put it in his glove. He looked at the coach who was pointing to first base so he ran to first base. The coach said "throw it." So he did, when he was no more than 18 inches from the first baseman. Then, after completing his job, he returned to right short-stop to check out his cool shoes.
After practice we all got in our new car. "How was practice?" I asked my boy. "It was great Mom, no one hit me in the penis." Well then, that's about all I can say about that. Hoping to get an explanation I asked, "Why did you keep looking at your shoes?"
He grinned, "Mom, these shoes are great! They run fast, and slow!"
Yeah, I can't wait until next practice.
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