Athletic supporters

Sometimes, it's a tough job sitting in the stands, watching your child play a sport and trying not to get "too involved." Sometimes, it's really an exercise in self-restraint. Sometimes, I fail.

Last night I realized this is going to be one long baseball season. I think this is Carter's sixth year playing ball, but it's his first year in REAL baseball -- kids pitching, not coaches.

Some kids on his 9- and 10-year-old team have experience; some don't. The result: a lot of walks and not too many hits (unless you count the batters getting clocked by wild pitches ... I saw that a half dozen times last night).

When games get long, the comfort level of sitting in the bleachers rapidly diminishes. And the kids, well, they get bored out there. I see Carter staring at the grass and have visions of a line drive connecting with the top of his head before he looks up and knows there's a batter at the plate. I want to yell to him but realize he has to learn to pay attention -- even if it hurts. So I do a generic, "OK, Tigers, get ready out there!"

Then he gets behind the plate and has to catch for an inning or two. Now the poor kid is only 15 feet away from Mom, so I can't hold back (and I'll note, neither can Dad). "C'mon Carter, you gotta catch that ball! Don't let anything past you!" and so on and so on. I knew he had heard us because he mentioned after the game how heavy the catching equipment was.

You know, it's not worth taking it that seriously at this level. In fact, only the kids were keeping score. What's wrong with us parents?! We know the right thing to do (or not do), but sometimes it's hard to put that knowledge into action.

I heard one mom yell, "(Insert name here), quit dancing!" Then she says under her breath, for all of us nearby to hear, "Oh my gosh, he's doing jazz squares out there!"

I wanted to snicker or say something, but for once, I kept my mouth shut. Yes, it's going to be a long season.