Yesterday Travis’s baseball season ended with a whimper when late afternoon storms rained out his last game. Though thunder rumbled and rain fell, I sat in my car next to the field, hoping against hope that some miracle would occur and the game would go on. Sadly that miracle never came, and my phone soon rang with a call from Kelly, telling me that the parents of the other Bees teammates had thrown in the towel. I was surprised at how sad that made me.
Kelly and I agreed that we will probably miss the games more than Travis will. There’s something magically simple about being on the ball field, where one’s only worry is the game itself. All is right with the world. There’s something especially magical about watching as our son progressed and improved throughout the season. As an assistant coach, I’ve been proud to watch as Travis and teammates came together as a team.
With a five-run limit before changing up, our coach wanted to slow down the runs, giving our players as many batting chances as possible. As the third-base coach, I would wave runners on for a double or triple but more often I would hold them at third.
I guess I’m still trying to stretch out the game, trying for one more hit for Travis, or one more goal for Hallie’s soccer game, or just one more after-game hug.
Every season ends. the players grow up and move on, and we’ll never live that moment again. It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?