He's a pretty athletic little guy. What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in enthusiasm, and in fantasy. He may not have ever played baseball in a league before, but in his head, he ranks right up there with Babe Ruth.
We've been gearing up for the season, tossing the ball back and forth a bit. My friend Tim stopped by to play catch with Mark last weekend, and as I listened from inside, I giggled at the differences between how men teach kids games, and how women do.
Mark was showing off his knuckleball, but Tim was having none of it. He told Mark to just practice basic throwing and catching before he tried to get all fancy.
"Just throw it!" Tim told him. "Stop talking about your knuckleball, you knucklehead!"
Mark was a little nervous about being the new kid, and I was a little nervous for him, too. He's played other sports--basketball, soccer--but never baseball, and as one kid told him, "I've been playing since I was in T-ball!"
Of course, Mark's favorite part of the whole day was modeling his new clothes. He was thrilled to have new baseball pants, cleats and socks, although he was a little bummed you couldn't see much of the socks.
I watched as he played catch with one kid. He did pretty good, and my fears subsided. He made enough catches, and threw the ball far enough, that I thought he stood a pretty decent chance of surviving his first season.
I also saw what my next 10 Sunday afternoons would look like. It resembled watching my son play in the yard from a prison cell:
After catch, the players lined up to field balls from each position. Mark did okay with the catching and throwing, not so much with the hustling from base to base. He'd gone to a week long baseball camp a couple years ago, and I remembered his biggest gripe about baseball.
"I hate all the hustling," he'd told me then. "Hustle here, hustle there--I'm sick of running everywhere!" I could tell from yesterday's practice he still held firmly to that belief.
Mark moseyed down to the catcher's position, and did all right catching.
The batting was a little iffy. He stood straight up in the box, and his swing was a little slow. I knew his bat was too heavy for him (he has a wooden bat a friend cut down to kid-size for him). But he never gave up--he kept swinging, and got a piece of it almost every time. He hit a bunch of foul balls, and then got a base hit! I was so excited, I could barely sit still.
He stopped safely at first, and then fiddled with his helmet until the next kid up got a hit. And ran to first base. And met up with Mark, who was still there, fiddling with his batting helmet. And had no idea he was supposed to be on his way to second base.
So we do have some work to do. I can see a trip or two to the batting cages in my near future, and probably a lighter, smaller aluminum bat, too. We'll ramp up our nightly games of catch in the backyard. And Mark will certainly have to get used to the protective gear--he spent a lot of time re-adjusting his helmet and his--um, lower body protective wear--which at least made him look like a professional baseball player. As the season progresses, he'll get used to that, and use his hands for catching and throwing instead.
At least, that's what I'm hoping for. I'm also hoping he likes baseball well enough to play in the spring, because I'm going to sign him up then. I've gotta get my money's worth out of all the new baseball gear I've purchased over the past two weeks!
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