Friday, June 8, 2007

"Man"-ning Up!

There was a valuable life lesson learned this past weekend, for both Father and Son. You would think that 8 years old is too young to have your first life test, but you would be wrong. It so happened that this lesson involved sports, and in particular baseball, but really, it could have been anything. It incorporated elements of fear, challenge, self conquering, and achievement. And Caz triumphed with flying colors. I was a very proud Father on Saturday.

It all started a few weeks ago, when the Youth Baseball league announce that they were fielding a traveling team for 8 year olds and would be holding try outs June 2. Seemed innocuous at first. But I could read into it. If Caz wanted to try out, this would be his first test. The first chance that he might not be picked for something. I don't think I was faced with being cut from a team until I was a freshman in high school (that is a story for another day). A small part of me didn't even want to tell Caz about the team. That was based on the same old feelings: protect your child and wanting your child to succeed. But you can't live their lives for them. Also, I thought it might be better to face something like this earlier than later. I made up my mind. I was going to let Caz decide what to do.

I casually mentioned that the league was fielding a team but there were try-outs. Not everyone was going to be picked. He decided that he wanted to try. I explained that I thought he would do well but how well he performed was up to him. He had to be the one to pay attention, hustle, make the effort, and show what he could do. No one was going to do it for him. He said he understood. He wanted to practice on his own. He spent time by himself with the pitchback. He asked me to play catch when I got home from work. He was really into it and making the effort to be ready.

And then........it hit. He announced the Friday night before the try out that he didn't want to go to the clinic, in the morning. (The clinic was a training session the league put together for all 8-9 year olds on Saturday mornings to work on skills. It was designed to draw more interest in baseball and give the kids more practice. A great idea. And the league commissioner who was in charge is really great with the kids.) I asked him why and he answered that he didn't want to tire himself out. But then when I pressed and said it was a good chance to practice for the try-out, he said that he didn't want to try out.

"Why don't you want to try out?"

"I don't really want to play baseball this summer."

"Is it that? Or are you a little scared?"

"I'm nervous."

I had finally gotten to the bottom of it. Now what?

We talked about fear and overcoming it. We talked about giving it your best shot. We talked about not making the team and it would be fine. Not everyone was going to make it. He wouldn't be alone. This all took course over intervals in a long time span during the night and next day.

He ended up going to the clinic on Saturday. On the way home he said he didn't want to go to try-outs. I said to rest a little and think on whether he wanted to try out. I was torn. I didn't want to force him into anything. But now it wasn't a Father fear about him failing. It was not wanting him to fail by not even trying. That just couldn't be allowed to happen.

So I got him changed into his uniform and while I did he was telling me he didn't want to go. I said we'd go down to the field and I would throw with him. We would see what was going on and who was there. I knew he'd see some friends. And as we played catch he told his buddies that he wasn't going to try out. He'd watch and cheer them on. I let him go on his own and suggested he play catch with a friend. As he did that, I signed him up and got him a number. I was prepared mentally to walk away if he insisted on not making the attempt but I was going to make an effort up until the last moment. So I slapped the number on his chest as they called the kids in to make announcements. I told him to go sit with his friends and see what happens. So they called groups of numbers......and off he went with his friends. Thankfully, his best friend was in the same grouping.

I ended up helping out at the batting station, shagging fly balls. (what a sight that was for spectators - the football guy trying to make catches). Sure enough Caz's first station was batting. I didn't go near the bench. He was in the middle of the order. I watched as him as his time approached. I saw him take a helmet, head to the on deck circle, take some cuts, and wait for his turn. Then he was up. Each kid got three hits. Didn't matter how many they missed. Caz hit 3 line drives on 4 pitches, he took one that he didn't like. Great at bat. And he was fine for the rest of the try out.

When it was over, I went right over to him and gave him a huge hug.

"I am so proud of you! I can't even say how I am feeling right now."

"Because I faced my fear, Dad?"

"Exactly. I love you, Son."

"Thanks, Dad. I love you too."

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