Nothing says summer quite as convincingly...besides the 115 degree temperature, of course...as summer league baseball in a small Kansas community. Parents, grandparents, bored older sisters and energetic younger brothers gather at the ball field for a double-header. A double-header?!? Good grief...didn't I just say it's 115 out there?
Baseball teams need accommodating dads and moms to serve as coaches. These are the hometown team's good guys. They give up precious evenings in front of the TV in order to shout encouraging words and uplifting advice...all while carefully choking down epithets, criticisms and threats. They should be highly praised and fervently thanked.
Our pitcher, second and third basemen, are showing good form and careful attention despite the fact that this has become a rather lopsided game...not in our favor. The competing team from a neighboring town appears to be made up of short professionals.
As the sun slides lower in the west, the last game is over. (Thank-you, Lord!) I see a few little boys on the home team hanging their heads in defeat, but they recover quickly as the Snack Mom rushes out with tonight's treats. And just two days from now, in freshly washed uniforms and clean socks, they'll be here again, enthusiastic and eager for another opportunity to pitch that strike, catch that fly, and hit that magic home run. BATTER UP!
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