First game

This weekend's theme was baseball. We went to the Dodgers game with some friends, which was super fun, even if the Dodgers themselves played terribly. (Final score: 12-2. Which was actually 12-0 until 10 minutes before the game ended.)

Then yesterday, Mark played in his first official Little League game. He was stoked to play, and to incorporate some of the pro moves he'd witnessed at the Dodgers game. I was just hoping for something shy of complete embarrassment by my newbie baseball player.

I needn't have worried. Turns out, he was as good at baseball as he was at soccer, and previously at basketball. Which is to say not great, but excited, and his enthusiasm goes a long way. It also makes for an entertaining afternoon.

Mark played third base the first inning. He was wearing his glove on one hand and a batting glove on the other. He has his own sense of fashion, and likes to show it off whenever possible. During warm-up, he stood directly on third base, and stared off into the sky above him. I watched as the first baseman tried desperately to get Mark's attention to catch the ball.

"Third base!" he yelled to Mark, who clearly wasn't listening. "Hey, third base!"

The second baseman and shortstop also tried yelling at him, and finally, when someone shouted, "MARK!!" he woke up and punched inside his glove, ready for the ball.

The next inning, he played left field. He used his time out there to practice his Sponge Bob dance, and then worked on popping and locking with his arms. He danced a bit more, then stopped and waved at me. I pointed at my eyes, and then at the batter, and mouthed "Watch the batter!" He got the message.

He'd practiced his batting stance all week, and couldn't wait to show it off. He hit a few foul balls, and then, while he was waiting for the pitcher to get ready, some grandpa at the fence started yelling at him to hit the ball. (I never saw him yell at anyone other than Mark the whole game.)

"Get in the box, batter!" Grandpa yelled. "Hit the ball!" Mark frowned at him, and I snickered. Even random strangers knew Mark needed direction!

For the next inning, Mark went back to third base. This time, he paid attention, and crouched down, ready to field the ball. Unfortunately, he crouched so low, he was almost sitting on the ground. I prayed that nobody would hit the ball to him, and risk a facial injury.

He decided it was a good time to practice some more robot dancing moves. He finally paid attention to the game when a kid got on second base. But instead of protecting third, Mark mouthed off to the runner on second. I couldn't hear what he said, but I'm sure it was some kind of taunt about how he wouldn't make it to third. I was afraid the catcher would bean the ball to third base, where Mark was not, and the runner would steal not only third, but home as well. Mark, oblivious to all the strategy going on here, just smiled and waved to me again.

So the good news is, Mark held his own. He wasn't the best player on the field, but he certainly wasn't the worst, either. He reaffirmed my belief that he has ADHD, and he made me realize baseball may not be his sport, either.

But hey, maybe I'm looking too hard to find Mark's sport. Because no matter which one he plays--baseball, soccer, basketball--he spends most of the time on the field or court dancing.

Maybe I'm missing the obvious here; instead of signing him up for sports, I think I'll sign him up for hip-hop dance classes next spring instead.

But until then, I think this baseball season will be very entertaining...