I don't know where it comes from, this athleticism. Certainly not from me. I'm about as athletic as a lint trap. But he's got this skill that spills into everything he tries and I can't help but be proud every time I watch him do something new.

He tried soccer for a year. He was good at it. I hated it. For a hundred different reasons but mostly because the coaches were idiots and didn't teach them one thing.

When he announced that he wanted to try baseball my reaction was: well, it can't be worse than soccer.

I don't know why, but finding information about our local baseball club was like searching for the lost mates of the socks in the laundry room cupboard.

It didn't exist online. No one I asked had any idea.

I finally emailed the town to say please please direct me to someone who can get us involved. The town connected me to the man who runs the arena and he connected me to some guy who knows something who finally connected me to one of the Rookie Ball coaches.

It was like gaining admission into a secret fraternity.

And I loved it. From the first practice to the last nail-biting tournament game. I loved it.

The tournament was on a weekend that I already had too much to do. I dreaded it. But actually being there on the sidelines, watching them fight their way back after losing their first game to win the rest...sitting on the edge of my seat as they were in the bottom of the last inning, bases loaded with the last batter at bat and four runs needed to win the game. A grand slam never disappoints! {Unless you're on the other team, I suppose.}