Little Slugger, Big Lesson

The sun was shining, the parents were cheering, and he was determined to turn this T-ball game into a comedy show.

It’s not like we hadn’t practiced. We taught him how to swing, run the bases, field a ball, and throw to first base. We had even broken some bad habits like swinging “up” at the ball and throwing the bat after he hit. My son Dean was prepared. 

As we expected the game to be called off due to soggy fields, we held off preparing until the last moment. Realizing the game was still on, rushing to get ready, and unable to find his cleats, we grabbed his sneakers and piled into our basic white Honda Odyssey. The ride was filled with chatter about hunger, pleas for tablets, and a deep discussion about belly buttons - just the usual family banter.

When we arrived at the park, the game was just getting started, and Dean was first at bat. Our last name starts with “A” so our kids are first for everything. It’s a blessing and a curse… We rushed to the field. I handed Dean his bat, and off he went. On his first swing, he swung so hard he did a full 360 and accidentally hit the ball on his second trip around. Foul Ball! I remembered our lesson about not swinging up as hard as he could, so I yelled to him to swing down at the ball. His second swing was completely vertical, as if he was trying to drive the tee into the ground.

Our coach is great. He is very patient with Dean. He demonstrated the motion of a good swing and told Dean he just needed to slow his swing down a bit. Please imagine what a sloth would look like trying to hit a ball off a tee, and then slow that down. That was my son. He hit the ball, which was great, but it only rolled a few inches forward. Fair ball! Dean was off to first base, but he was stuck in slow motion. The coach had to hold his hand and walk him to first just to keep the game moving.

My wife and I were trying as hard as we could not to laugh, because we didn’t want to reinforce that behavior. 

When he eventually made it to first base, he lifted up his shirt to show the other team his belly button. He was excited to teach them what he learned during the car ride. When Dean made it to second base, he made friends with a player from the opposing team. In fact they became such good friends, Dean refused to run to third base after the next batter hit the ball. Eventually Dean made it back to home plate, but not before stopping to splash in a puddle along the way. His sneakers were ruined. 

My laughter turned to frustration. He was having fun, but not the right way. I no longer cared how well Dean performed. I just wanted him to focus, follow instructions, and be a good team player. He will need those skills later in life, and this was an opportunity for him to develop those skills. 

I joined Dean in the dugout and helped him put on his bright red glove. When it was time for him to take his position, he flung his glove off and ran to the outfield. When I yelled to him to put his glove back on, he replied “You told me to go to my spot; you didn’t say go with my glove on!” One thing Dean did well was stay in his position. Eventually a ball came right to him and he scooped it up. My wife and I jumped to our feet and cheered! Dean looked at us and smiled as we yelled “throw it to first, throw it to first!” Dean hurled the ball like he was chucking a grenade behind enemy lines. Not the best form, but he got the job done. There was a glimmer of hope. 

After the inning was over, the coach instructed the kids to run back to the dugout and get ready to bat. Dean stared into space for 30 seconds before complying, and when he did, he walked - a cardinal sin in sports. My wife and I encouraged him to run, but he huffed and continued to walk. 

At this point I’m ready to pull him out of the game and lock him in a Port-a-Jon, but my wife persuaded me to have a firm conversation with him instead.

As I sat him on the bench and kneeled beside him, I explained “It’s great that you’re having fun. But in sports, you have to follow the rules so that everyone can have fun.” Gently threatening to throw his tablet into a volcano (worse than a monster under the bed), I set expectations of how he should behave and what would happen if he did not. As his eyes perked up, he committed to being a good listener. 

As the next inning began, Dean again was first at bat. Noticing the talk I had with my son, the coach stood back and simply said “You got this Dean!” Dean stepped up to the plate, took one moderately tempoed swing, and hit the ball! We went crazy with excitement! As Dean walked carefully to the fence my heart sank and I thought to myself “here we go again.” To my surprise, after Dean leaned the bat against the fence, he ran straight to first base. He listened and remembered not to throw the bat! Dean made it all the way around the bases with his shirt fully tucked and only a light conversation with his friend from the opposing team. 

I was proud. 

After the game, the real competition starts. The parents rotate who bring snacks for the kids, and this week a real winner brought donuts and Gatorade. As we headed home, donut in hand, jamming to “The Greatest Showman” soundtrack, my daughter asked if Dean won his T-ball game. I jokingly replied with the old adage “It doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it’s about how you play the game.” While I was half joking, it couldn’t have been more true to me at that moment. 

As I reflected on the lessons I wanted my son to learn that day my perspective shifted. I asked myself “What games am I playing in my own life, and if my father were watching from the bleachers, what would he think?”

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