Game Over

A.J.’s team has finished its third week of T-ball without any major injuries, an impressive accomplishment when you consider the team’s defensive style, which is to watch all batted balls roll slowly through the infield and to not move a muscle until the ball has come to a complete stop. At this point, every player in the field runs to the ball, screaming as loud as they possibly can and forming a pile on whichever poor kid happened to get to the ball first.

We’ve been working with the kids on trying to actually intercept the ball while it is still in motion, to maybe knock it down or perhaps to even catch it. They’re getting it, slowly. I have to take this opportunity to brag about my son, who while playing in the infield last week actually caught a ground ball, turned his body and made a perfect throw to the first baseman. There was quite a lot of applause. You don’t see many actual putouts in T-ball.

Last Sunday, I was trying to explain to the infielders the vital importance of turning one's body to face the batter, instead of looking at the sky or beyond the outfield fence. D., one of the more introspective players on the team, was playing shortstop lying on his back with his glove over his face.

“Be ready, everybody!” I said in my way-too-enthusiastic coach voice. “I think this one’s coming to you, D.”

To which D. responded, “When is the game over?”

Yet another question I couldn't answer.