The agony of sports

As some of you colleagues may realize, Blader Jr is an accomplished 12 year old baseballer.  He had a game the other evening that on the ride home he described to me as his "best ever".

You must be asking yourself, "WTF? Where's the agony"

It has to do with the opposing teams pitcher of record.  He is a kid who didn't make the all star team last summer, a team that I led, and he and his parents took the snub very hard.

The latter actually took it rather ungraciously, to vastly understate the issue, and made it personal between myself and them 

The last time my team faced his team last season, the dad-who was manager-wanted to prove my all star decision wrong and was looking for revenge. 

So he started his son as pitcher against us, and we creamed him, running him off the hill after scoring a dozen runs in less than 3 innings.  Then his dad placed this poor son at shortstop, and subsequently just about everyone of our hitters proceeded to hit sharp grounders his way, which he blundered and bobbled.  I felt so sorry for the kid.

My kids in that game knew nothing of this undertone, they were just out to play a game hard.  If anything, blame goes on the shoulders of the dad running the other team for putting his son in a position to fail...which he did all season which is basically why the kid didn't make the all star team.

So we turn to this season.  New teams.  I'm coaching, but the other kid's dad is not (he didn't get a team this year).  The snubbed kid, who is really a good, nice boy, is the starting pitcher against us.  I basically have completely different players on my team this year, except for my son and two other boys. 

Still, this is baseball.  Springtime. Renewal.  Another chance for him to avenge his honor against his arch-nemesis.

What happened?

You guessed it

We ran up a ton of runs on him in two innings.  Batting cleanup, Blader Jr draws the first blood with a one out, 2 RBI swinging bunt.  Totally cheap, and great baserunning by our guy on second who didn't hesitate as he rounded thrid. 

The kid actually pitched pretty well, but we put the ball in play and that usually opens the floodgates, and we score 7 runs in the first two innings. 

In the bottom of the 3rd, Blader Jr steps up to the plate, again with two on.  This poor kid is pitching him pretty good, and gets Blader Jr to a 1-2 count....then Blader Jr steps into a meatball, launching a tape measure 3-run homer high and hard over the center field fence, making the score 10-3 and chasing the poor kid from the mound in tears. 

If anybody else hits that home run, it wouldn't have been so painful for the kid.  He wants so much to prove us wrong, and yet we end up humiliating the kid....again.

Blader Jr is also a pretty good catcher, with solid footwork and a reasonably quick release and a strong arm that makes up for having only a reasonably quick release. 

He picked off three of their base runners trying to advance on steals (bringing his total to 7 for the season).  That's pretty darn unusual, because in this league, a walk is usually as good as a triple.  You need the pitcher, catcher and baseman to all execute perfectly to throw out base stealers, which is a lot to ask of 11 and 12 year olds.

The other team had only three base hits on the day against us.  And this poor kid had one of them, a solid line drive 2 RBI double that just tipped off our stretching 3rd baseman's glove in the top of the 3rd inning. 

Afterwards, Blader Jr threw him out trying to steal third, ending the inning and their rally.

Cool

Will let you know

If Blader Jr makes the team this summer, we're slotted to be there the week of July 19th

baseball is the worst too.  Every player no matter how good has multiple nights like that 'poor' kid.  I had my share.

How Twu.

I ended my own baseball career as a high school senior, watching a belt high fastball split the middle of the plate. 

What a moron.

Knowing me, I must've been expecting to duck from a curveball, and it must've surprised me so much, I froze when he offered "las queso."

 

Poor Stroh, you have to pack your family's bags, and get out of that dam place.

9th grade, well there you go.

I'm sure hormones would have kicked in well and truly then, and baseball would not have been as important as, chasing young hot chickie babes around.

I can read you like a book.