When did you stop catching your son? Levity encouraged.

MrBumstead posted:

I'm probably too stupid to quit, though since my 2016 is now off at college the "opportunities" with him are rare.

When 2016 would take pitching lessons, I would always take our catcher's gear and catch for them (no bucket, full crouch).  I figured the pitching coach could concentrate more on what my son was doing if he didn't have to focus on catching (or avoiding) the baseball.

Two incidents stand out:

About a year ago, he was taking lessons from YoungGunDad's son JW at the high school field.  JW had him do pulldowns over the mound, with me catching in a standing position.  Knowing that it was going to be coming in hotter and that framing the location wasn't as important, I took a few steps back from the catcher's box and basically stood with my back against the inside of the turtle.  Seemed like a good idea.  Except for my son and JW failed to tell me that he was going to throw splitters.  Only after the first one hit me in the bellybutton and the second one drilled me on the upper thigh did they remember to let me in on that detail.

A few weeks later we meet JW for another lesson.  In our haste, I forgot to check to see if the mitt was still in the catcher's bag.  So of course, it wasn't.  Instead of going back home to get our mitt, I borrowed JW's mitt he used with the 12U team he coached.  About 10 pitches in, son throws a fastball that looked to be heading a few inches off the plate, so I reached across my body to catch it.  The ball backed up over the corner at the last instant, which with me reaching for it caused the ball to square up the tip of my middle finger, which wasn't protected very well by that itty bitty youth mitt.  Before I could even get the mitt off, the entire fingernail was purple with blood, which actually started oozing out around the edges of the nail and from under the cuticle a few minutes later.  Pretty sure he fractured the tip of that finger, though I never got it x-rayed. (There wasn't anything a doctor would do to treat it any differently anyway.)  I didn't fully regain feeling in the tip of that finger for about 6 months, which made typing feel weird.

My 2022 is starting to grow like his big brother.  I catch for him more often now.  I'm not certain, but I think he has a bet with his big brother that one day he will injure me worse than 2016 did.

J-Dub came in the door laughing about that day now that I think about it! LOL. 

I still bear a slight "seam" scar on my shin from catching him on our driveway. It came in low, skidded off the pavement and BAM, right into my shin. We were done for the day of course.

I stopped playing catch with him after he graduated from college 5/2016. However, he continued to play catch with an MLB pitcher who was his HS teammate who was recently placed in the 40 man MLB roster  this past Winter and pleasantly surprised that he gave him a little something after destroying his OF glove he used in college! Maybe someday we will have a Field of Dreams moment! 

When did I stop catching my son?

Soon after it occurred to me that I ought to start wearing a cup to do so!

... when I took one off the shin and now have no feeling where it hit me

when he broke my foot

I gave up catching my son when I found out he was in the 90's...I was still catching him okay at the time however... learning that he was throwing that hard scared the h#*$=% out of me so I gave it up.

Well back at it with my 2019.  Long toss has been tough with flat light and white clouds camouflaging the ball.  Caught a bull pen yesterday for the first time since early fall.  We went to the field and it was much easier than the random places we have found around the house.  The black fence behind the mound made it easy to pick up the ball.  Plus he was hitting his spots really well.  

I stopped catching my son when he could throw an effective curve. Plus my youngest was a catcher so he usually caught for him anyway.

Now for the levity.

Actually long toss and not bull pen.

We were at a youngest sons tryout. Me and the older one were passing the time getting some long toss in. I could not get the ball back to him, so we had two buckets. I had one and and he had one. When I filled mine up we switched.

Now the smart alec kid decided he would see how his old Dad could hancle a ball with some movement.  So he throws something that has some velocity, and starts high then suddenly (at least to me) Is on a completely different trajectory than I anticipated. WHAM, right in the thigh, Major Charlie Horse. He and his brother are just rolling on the ground laughing, while I am doing my best not to cuss in front of a bunch of kids. Boy did it hurt. When we all recovered our composure. I said Ok, you got me, no more of that. And of coarse three throws later guess what, Wham right in the thigh.

I put my Glove in the Bucket and did not throw again until he got into college.