Ten years ago I was assistant coach of a “Farm League” team (ages 8-9). My son was making the step up from peewees and I was meeting with the head coach to discuss strategy for the upcoming league draft. I couldn’t even imagine where I am today: waiting for the start of my son’s senior year in high school.
Where have the years gone? There was a time when I wondered if he’d be selected on a “Little League” team at the age of 9. He was.
Would he want to keep playing at age 13 when the distance between bases increased and the cleats became steel? He did.
Would he be able to make the JV team at high school his freshman year? He did.
Would he ever recover from his first outing on the mound in a high school jv game (5 consecutive walks and maybe a hit batter)? He did.
Would he make varsity his sophomore year? Yep.
Would he repay the support extended to him by older players and do the same to his younger teammates when the time came? I think he’s done that.
Would he earn a chance to continue this dream beyond high school? He’s done that through hard work.
Would he let his father live vicariously through him? Yes. He’s been very patient of me.
Would I trade these years for anything? Not a chance.
I’m going to enjoy every moment of this season. I wish the same for all parents out there.
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