Son's First Little League Game

¶ … sounds of aluminium and laughter filled the ballpark. I pulled the minivan into a spot next to the dugout and stared through the chain link fence. Well, son, we're here," I said, and sighed. I turned my head to look at Daniel, who seemed equally as hesitant about leaving the car. He turned to me and said, Alright! I guess I'm ready!" His voice was surprisingly devoid of anxiety.

Suddenly aware of my fingers tapping the dashboard, I realized that I was far more nervous than my son on this day, his first Little League game. We gathered his equipment from the back of the van and the two of us lugged it to the dressing room. When I saw the coach, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief: it was one of my oldest friends, Brian Moynihan. Good to see you!" shouted Brian from the other end of the room.

Likewise!" I replied, and set Daniel's gear on one of the benches. Patting him on the shoulder, I gave a cursory goodbye and good luck. I didn't want to overdo an emotional display and embarrass Daniel in front of his teammates. But I couldn't help but rub the top of his head one more time before heading for the bleachers. Half a hotdog later, the two teams entered the field. We were home, so I watched Daniel jog out to left field.

I was profusely sweating; it was a combination of the cloudless summer day and my overactive nerves. I suppressed a desire to shout out, "You go boy!" Save it till he makes a killer catch," I said to myself. Just then I noticed another lone parent munching on peanuts absentmindedly. She smiled over at me and I asked, Which one is yours?" That one -- first base," she replied. "Yours?" Left fielder -- that's my Daniel. I'm Tony, by the way.

You are?" Arlene." Arlene and I were both startled by the Black Bear's coach's voice booming an introduction to the game over the PA system. He led us into a cursory Pledge of Allegiance, to which half the ballpark's spectators stood. I glanced over at the scoreboard, which read: Black Bears 000. Bobcats 000." The Highland Bobcats were my own alma mater, and I felt a twinge of sentimentality. But I was here for my son, and my feelings about Little League had changed considerably since I was seven.

The aroma of ketchup pierced the air when the first pitch left the mound: a strike. The Bobcat batter got a piece of it, and the echo of his aluminium bat complimented his frustration. The home team bleachers erupted in a wave of enthusiasm, cheers, and applause as the proud parents rallied their little stars. By far the highlight of the afternoon came during the 6th inning, when Daniel shone. A long fly ball headed right towards him, Daniel exhibited a level of intensity and concentration.