This past spring, we ventured for the first time into the world of organized baseball by registering Lucas for t-ball. We set out to provide him a t-ball experience that was grounded in fun and grow Lucas’ love for the game. We thought it would be a fun spring activity – lots of running, dirt and sunshine! However, let me tell you what five-year-old t-ball is really all about.
- Did you know that try-outs are held for kindergarten level t-ball?! Say WHAT?! Thank you Select Baseball for making my child feel inadequate even before he has ever held a baseball. You’re awesome.
- Ridiculous amounts of t-ball “accessories.” Walking into the baseball section of a sporting goods store is like being run over by a Mack truck. Once you recover from the overwhelming selection of bats, gloves and shoes, you then go into shock at the prices of said items. Did you know you could spend $100 on a t-ball bat?
- Coaching. AKA attempting to provide instruction. It seems that it took no-less than three adults, providing nearly constant direction, to get a child to do anything t-ball related. And then the outcome was still iffy.
- More coaching. Explaining how to hold a bat, hit the ball, run to base, catch a ball, throw the ball, tag a runner. Repeatedly.
- Twirling. Lots and lots… of twirling.
- And let’s not forget throwing that twirled dirt.
- Picking noses, dandelions or other annoying weeds. That’s why they have gloves, right?
- Exploring the wonder, that is, a ballpark bathroom. No excuse me, let me correct that. Exploring the wonder of the ballpark port-a-potty. I think we all know that kids have to pee every five seconds. For those of you not in-the-know, ballpark “bathrooms” are wet, dirty, spider infested germ banks. It’s basically the stuff nightmares are made of.
- Giggling at irate Dads yelling at the coaches for not “playing his son enough.” Yo… irate Dad! This is not the Major Leagues! Every kid takes a turn!
All kidding aside, Lucas looked pretty darn cute in that uniform and it was worth every minute – including witnessing the butt jiggle on the pitcher’s mound.