It’s that time of year again: Little League Baseball Season. I’ve logged many hours of study “in the field,” so to speak, and so I can share with you the following observations:
1. Baseball Moms don’t eat dinner. Not at a normal time and not at a dining room table like regular people, anyway. Instead, they snack on peanut butter crackers and slurp out of juice boxes while squatting on blankets on baseball field sidelines. Then they return home after dark to heat up and serve whatever leftovers happen to be in the refrigerator and then hurry the kids into bed one and a half hours past their bedtime.
2. Baseball Moms can bi-locate. This comes in especially handy when one child has practice at field #1 on one side of town and another child has practice at field #2 on the other side of town at the same time. Oh, and please teach the children the importance of commitment by not showing up late, and please show your support by being present at all team events in case your child should happen to hit the game-winning homerun and/or take a fastball to the head requiring a trip to the emergency room.
3. Baseball Moms don’t have little babies or any other children who don’t play baseball. This is because it is extremely inconvenient to wear a fussy baby in a sling on the sidelines in 30 degree windy weather and it can be tricky to entertain older kids who announce that they are sooooooooo bored right around the bottom of the first inning.
4. Baseball Moms don’t feel the cold. Having an eternal sense of springtime about them, they sport shorts, sandals, and T-shirts, even in the most in frigid temperatures. Through the arctic winds, they shout things like “Way to watch ?em, Aaron!” and “Nice swing, Jamie!” without ever admitting any sense of discomfort. Some of them even manage to look like they enjoy being there.
Yes, indeed, Baseball Moms are unique human beings. I am not a natural-born Baseball Mom and I don’t hold out much hope for ever becoming a real one. That doesn’t stop me, though, from attempting to impersonate one each spring. I endure the late dinners, whiny kids, and inclement weather, but it’s not for the love of the game. It’s for the love of the players.