The Summer of Nine

It was the hottest day of the year and any shade to hide from the oppressive heat was nearly impossible to find. One lone tree stood out among the many ball fields and provided sparse relief for the few huddled underneath. As everyone watched intently, cheers suddenly erupted from the dugout as the player slid into home plate for the winning run. The team had won their final game of the season and were crowned Champs. As the players and coaches leapt to their feet, hooting and hollering, they all scrambled onto the field with exuberance. Only one lagged behind.

He turned away from the celebration, slowly picked up his bat and glove and placed them gently in his duffle bag. He grabbed his cap, put it on his head and pulled it low over his eyes-trying hard to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks and stop the flood of emotions. He then lifted his chin, stood tall, wiped his eyes with the back of his dust covered hands and made his way out of the dugout to the pile of players. He wanted to be brave. He put on a quivering smile and high fived his teammates. When the 1st place medal was handed to him, he nodded his thanks. When it was time for the team photo, he took his place, held his head high knowing in his heart, he never wanted to play the game of baseball again.

When summer finally arrived, he was giddy with excitement. He couldn’t wait for practice to begin. He was eager to break in his new glove and learn every position. He imagined running onto the field on a warm summer day, hitting a home run for the victory and celebrating after with ice cream!

The night before the first game, he laid out his uniform from cap to cleats. His uniform was white with blue trim. It was an official uniform with his town’s name displayed across the front of the jersey and his name proudly stitched across the back with his favorite number below. He went back and forth and finally decided to wear his pants pulled up just below the knees with the bright blue socks stretched way up high. He was ready!!

After weeks of practice, the day finally arrived to play an official game. Hours ahead of game time, he was dressed and ready in his clean, crisp, white and blue uniform. Those first games were played with enthusiasm and pure joy. He was focused at the plate and threw with abandon on the field. Though no home runs were made, and more than a few strike outs, his summer so far was the best ever. Until it wasn’t.

As the season progressed and the team continued to win and win big, things started to change. The batting line up suddenly stayed the same for each game and he was most often the last batter. His wish was to play all positions, especially the most coveted, the infield, but was rarely given the chance. The final sting came when he was the player chosen to sit on the bench for more innings than he played. The coach never explained the reason and he was afraid to ask. He told himself he must have done something terribly bad, but he didn’t know what.

Panic would rise when it was his turn to bat. The fear of striking out was so great that he often did. When it was his chance to play in the field, the panic and fear took over and the mistakes followed. He prayed for the season to be over.

You see, he was not a teenager vying for a spot on the high school team’s roster. He was a sweet and spunky 9-year-old boy who had just barely mastered the art of tying his shoes. When he wasn’t dreaming of home runs, he was riding his bike through the woods, playing football in the backyard with his brothers and running through the sprinkler. That giddy feeling of playing baseball on a warm summer day with his friends and enjoying ice cream afterwards, win or lose, had faded. A part of his carefree childhood and innocence had been lost.

As the years passed by, this little boy became a man. He still had a love for the Great American Pastime, but a tiny sting from that season long ago stayed with him. He carried no bitterness or anger, only sadness for the little 9-year-old boy. His heart continued to love the game, but it lost the love to play it.

In time, this man became a father, a dad, and had a little boy of his own. This little boy adored his dad and hoped to be just like him one day. The dad began to teach his little boy all the things he himself loved, including baseball. Every evening, right after dinner, the little boy would beg his dad to play catch with him. They would stay outside until the sun went down and the ball was no longer visible. The dad taught his little boy how to play every position from catcher to center field. One day, the little boy told his dad he wanted to play on a real team, with uniforms that had his name across the back of the jersey and his town’s team on the front. The dad was hesitant for fear his little boy would go through what he had. As the dad struggled with the decision, he saw the same giddy enthusiasm in his little boys’ eyes as he once had. He realized he could not deny his little boy this wish. So, the dad decided to allow his son to play baseball, but, with a catch - the dad would coach his little boys’ team.

The sadness of that long ago season was forgotten. All the dad saw was the pure joy on the face of his little boy. As a man, he could finally see the lessons he learned from that long ago summer. He would coach every player on his team with kindness and patience, even if it meant losing a few games. He hoped each player would have the best summer ever. The dad knew he couldn’t always protect his son from disappointment, but for this one short season, he would try.