Long live baseball


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Both babes playing baseball: this fast-pitch softball player is loving life! Ri continues to craft her competitive spirit asking each game “who are we playing?” When I tell her the team – no matter which one – she has some curt response like “oh, they can’t hit” or “they aren’t that good.” This coming from my “I don’t like winners and losers” girl from six months ago.

Ri has really progressed with her batting. Her swing used to be rigid and awkward but now it is pretty smooth. She has been getting out there with David and me and working on it, to her credit. Her fielding needs some work – she’s got muscle – she just needs to move more quickly. It’s like she gets the ball and is so amazed it’s in her glove that she can’t move. A lot if the girls are like that though. And Ri just began playing this year so she will get the hang of it next year (hoping there is a next year – she gave up cheer leading after one year but, for that, I didn’t complain…).

Mario was completely upset that his baseball wasn’t coach pitch like Ri’s.

“I’m not a baby; I don’t need a tee!”

He was going to give it up but I told him he’d miss out on making friends and he decided to go for it. And he made friends – immediately. He walked up to everyone at the jungle gym and struck up a conversation. He began playing with two boys on the playground and acted like they were best friends in five minutes time.

His baseball game was hilarious. At first, he wanted to bat first. But then he saw that the last batter got to run all the way around the bases at one time since he was last at bat so he decided being last was better. He likes to look over in the stands while he’s on base to make sure people are watching him.

The field play could have just as well been soccer rather than baseball. As soon as the ball was hit, every single fielder – no matter the position – ran towards it. One glove would touch it but then another glove and body would land on it, then another and another. The poor soul who actually grabbed it would be smothered until the little tykes got up one by one.

Each time Mario returned to his position, he would look over at Jon and me and give us a wave or a thumbs up. Sweet boy. I’m pretty sure we only have about three years left of that before he’s too cool to acknowledge us.

Long live baseball and softball!

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