6.03.2018

play ball. or, just play.

He plays baseball a bit like he wanders around our house, appearing to live mostly inside his head. His legs and body trot confidently toward first base while his brain drifts along behind like a dawdling balloon.
Sometimes I worry he won't hit the ball, worry he’ll be embarrassed about a missed catch. Until I realize he’s too thrilled to be embarrassed - he’s playing ball with his friends, making memories.
Out on the field, he is thinking about something -- likely not about the game, certainly not about a future in the Major Leagues. But he is having fun.
Sitting, momentarily, in the stands, I am not sure why I cannot stay in the moment with this version of my child, the one with the glove and the hat and the smile. But my brain is determined to resurrect old versions. Floating around me suddenly, wobbly and warm, are memories of a three year old obsessed with larvae, shirtless and singing to his pet grub, worried about furnishing an appropriate shoebox habitat. I can't blame Tuck for losing focus before the fifth inning, because I have lost focus too.

So much of him is still the same - he listens and ponders and turns things around in his mind, like polishing a stone, and then he spits them out all shiny, a finished product. Never mind short stop might not be the place to debut new ideas.

I didn't know Tuck had a handle on the word Yankee until I hear him in the dugout, halfway across the ballpark, sharing its complete etymology. He seems distracted sometimes, living inside his head, but really, maybe, he’s just shining up his thoughts? What luck to find extra time for that in the outfield.
Tossing the ball to teammates, he hones his British accent. I'm tempted to remind him that it's baseball, not cricket or squash, but a few other boys have joined in. They're all laughing, throwing pointers on dialects along with pitches, and I can almost see the speech bubble above Tuck's head :: this is the kind of game I like to play.

And above mine? This is the kind of kid I like to watch.*

*for, like, four innings, tops (full disclosure)

2 comments:

Kristy Grachek said...

Love him and this post! I wish sports were more simple for grade school children. Sometimes things get too serious, too early.

Also, I could watch baseball all day!

Poppy John said...

Jenni Baby,
Those who contend "baseball is a game of inches"...have not tried golf.

Nice ball park...I grew up playing in a field full of rocks!
Any time someone got hurt and was bleeding...the coach said, "Rub some dirt on it and let the dog lick it"...true. The dog only had one eye and was named, "Lucky".
Our team was called the "Pinecones"...very scary, huh.
I'm sureTucker will have great memories!

L2A