We had our first experience in participating in a 7U All Star Dizzy Dean State tournament this past weekend. We did our homework, researched, and starting preparing. We practiced, sorted out scenarios, and conditioned our son as best as we could. We journeyed on...
The day of opening ceremonies we walked onto the facility. Those memories came flooding back to me all at once. You know what I am talking about. That feeling you get when you are about to do something that you think is much bigger than you. The butterflies and queasy stomach. It seemed like we were walking onto the battlefield and and we were about to send our first born off with a sling shot and a rock. You cannot prepare for that. It is what it is, an experience you walk through. I gave him my "mom has your back" fist bump (he is now too big to give kisses and hugs on the field) and sent him off to face the giants.
The games begin. As I watched our six and seven year old boys walk out onto that strange field, I saw them mature by ten years. It was as if they were growing before my eyes. They went through so many emotions in six innings per game. They were down and came back. They were defeated and then rallied. There were some AMAZING plays and some major mistakes. They honestly gave everything they had and then some.
The last make it or go home game was intense. The opposing team looked so big and polished. Our boys were watching every move they made as they warmed up. I could tell what our boys were thinking. "How are we going to ...?" The coaches and moms were amazing. They broke that train of thought and sent those boys onto the field feeling ten feet tall. That game began and we were on fire. They played great defense and hit like I had never seen them hit before. They were in the other teams head. Were we going to pull this off and play for the championship? However, the opposing team rallied and came back strong and fast. It's now the last inning and we are at bat. This is it. We had to score five runs to win. Could we do it?
Our son was first up at bat. He looked back at me before he stepped out onto the field. I lifted my chin and gave him "our look" and he ran off. I could barley stand still. Pitch one, no good. No swing, good eye. Pitch two and he cracks the bat and took off like a shot. It was a pop fly. "Oh, please drop ball" I was praying. The first baseman caught it in the air. OUT! I caught his facial expression when he saw the ball in the first baseman's glove. He was completely defeated. His head dropped. It was as if I could hear everything he was thinking. "I just cost us the game." "I just let down my team and my coaches." He ran into the dugout fighting tears and fear. He just saw his giant face to face (disappointment). I could not stop myself from running to him. My heart felt like a hot poker had just pierced through my chest and tears were running down my face. I just faced my giant as well (my child in pain). I gave him my best moms got your back fist bump and sent him to his dad who is keeping stats in the dugout. I had to walk away.
It turns out that we were not meant to win this tournament. The boys took it hard. They cried and were mentally defeated. I applaud our coaches and parents. We scooped up those boys and held them tight as to transfer their pain to ourselves. The coaches gathered them around and talked to them like men. I could not hear what was being said but I snapped a quick shot that would speak for itself. The emerged from that huddle, stronger.
Although winning was not our destiny this weekend, I feel like we won something more. Life lessons that cannot be taught but must be experienced is what we won. Not only for the boys but also for the parents. We faced our giants and came out better for the battle. Stronger!
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