BR’s Little League Expectations

Ready to go to his first Little League game.

Little League begins for BR this weekend.

This is his last year in the league, and he made his goals clear.

So, what are you thinking about for the upcoming season?
It’s good.
Huh? Could you take the music out of your ears for a minute?
[Sound like a conversation you’ve had with your teen?] Fine, what do you want?
What are you thinking about for the upcoming season?
We have to win a championship.
Well, every team wants to win, and only one will. I mean I want to and everything, but to say we have to…
No. If we don’t win, it’s a fail. It’s our final year, and we haven’t won yet. So, it has to be this year.

Continue reading

Lessons Learned Coaching Little League

Little League Team

Giving instructions to the Little League team.

It was a big sports weekend. The NHL season ended with the Los Angeles Kings taking home the Stanley Cup. The NBA season ended with the San Antonio Spurs winning the championship. Martin Kaymer won the US Open of golf. The World Cup began (actually, it started Thursday).

And the championship was played in BR’s Little League. Unfortunately, our team lost last week, despite twice coming back from multiple run deficits. So ends BR’s first season of Little League and my first season as a coach.

Originally, it was not my plan to coach, but when the manager of the team, who is a friend of mine, asked me to help, I was intrigued. I asked BR about 10 times if he was okay with it. He said “Yes” each time, so I finally did also.

Over our seven game season (not exactly a grind there), I learned some things. Continue reading

Little League Is Bringing Us Closer

Father & Son ready for Little League opening day

BR & I ready for Little League opening day



This past weekend was the big game. It was opening day of my 10-year-old’s first season of Little League Baseball. And it was opening day for me as a coach.

Yup, just another day on the calendar. Nope!

P.S. You may recall that yesterday Mom in the Muddle did a guest post here on my blog. Today, I am guesting on her blog, so to read the post, click MMK on Mom in the Muddle’s blog. Enjoy.

I Can’t Handle the Little League Sidelines

Parents viewing a little league game

Parents Viewing a Little League Game

Little league Baseball season is upon us and today is the first day of a home and home series. The visiting team is Mom in the Muddle. Karen is the coach, eh blogger, at Mom in the Muddle.

She blogs about stumbling through parenthood at Mom in the Muddle. She writes, edits, parents, and whips up last-minute dinners while trying to survive her kids’ math homework.

I enjoy Karen’s blog very much and look forward to each post. So after reading her post here, make sure to go check out Mom in the Muddle.

I Can’t Handle the Sidelines

I’m pretty sure it was one of the reasons I stopped playing. I knew it even then. In fourth grade, I played softball and I wasn’t very good. When the ball was hit to my patch of centerfield grass, I ran for it and threw it in. I threw it to whoever looked most eager to get it in her glove. Only my aim sucked. My eyes looked at her outstretched hand, but the ball went six feet to the left.

I used to sit in the dugout and pray my turn wouldn’t come up. Standing at the plate, I could hear the parents in the stands. Maybe they meant for me to. “Come on, hit the ball!” They weren’t using encouraging tones. They weren’t being helpful.

As a parent, I’ve sat on the sidelines through enough games and enough sports to know that I’m not cut out for this sort of thing. I hate sitting in the stands, hearing the other parents. My kids are 8 and 11, and I already hate the other parents in the stands. I hate hearing them chuckle when a kid messes up, and not just my kid. I hate the parents who scream at the top of their lungs to their own kid, “Shoot the ball! Get it, Bobby! GET IT! GET IT! GET IIIITTTTT!” I wonder whether I’m going to have to slide over when the guy’s heart attack kicks in.

I hate the parents who forget that these kids are still learning the game, and this is not the big leagues, folks. I hate the coaches who teach the kids to push the rules.

I get angry at the kids out there who call the other kids “asses” and bully them so hard that you have to have a talk with your kid after the game about being the better man and good sportsmanship—when the talk you really want to have is, take that kid down.

I’ve heard parents laugh at my kids, yell at them, and yell at their own during all sorts of sports through the years. I’ve had to get up and walk away.

I’ve learned to sit on the grassy hill to watch baseball games, on the other end of the field during soccer games, and on the floor against the wall during basketball games. I try not to sit with the other parents. One man last year yelled so loudly so often at his son during a game, that I had to cover my ears and finally had to move. My son told me later he was glad my husband and I didn’t do that.

I do a lot of clapping during the games. I clap for my kids and other kids. I talk under my breath. A lot of times I just sit there and watch.

I remember how hard it was to be out there with so many eyes watching. Some kids are naturals. Some kids aren’t. Some kids will work hard at it and get through all that. But they don’t need some jerk in the stands to crush their spirit.

I know I never was a great athlete. I didn’t want to be. But I’ve learned more in the past eleven years about throwing a ball, shooting a basket, and kicking a soccer ball than I ever did during my own childhood because now I don’t have grown bullies bringing me down.

Pic is courtesy of Google Images