The Championship Game

High Fly

It was like a miracle that my twelve-year-old daughter’s softball team made it to the final championship game. My husband even came home early so he could see the second half of it. The most important part was that we were there. As one dad said, “The rest of it is just gravy.”

We were the first from our team to get there and the other coach was apparently unaware of my daughters’ presence as he spoke to his girls. “He said they are going to win by a huge lead!” my ten-year-old reported to me. We love that coach because he is in charge of the travel teams, where they are learning a great deal, but she was indignant. She had made enough cupcakes to share with the other team and decided then and there that she was not going to share them.

Numerous complaints had been made over the week by the previously undefeated team that we had beat in the playoffs, attempting to protest on every ground possible. Therefore the head umpire was present, along with four of his best underlings. Several times per inning they all huddled together as we parents looked at each other quizzically.

We held them well until the third inning, when they started to score. I really didn’t care about the score; I just wanted to see what kinds of plays my daughter would make at first base.

I looked every now and then to check on my other children. My almost-three-year-old was adorable horsing around with some slightly older girls. My eight-year-old son had brought the boy next door and the three of them were over on a huge dirt hill, throwing dirt and pebbles; the coach’s son was wielding a huge sewer pipe from a trash heap. My ten-year-old daughter was playing near the boys with another coach’s daughter.

His cell phone rang. “The girls have to use the bathroom,” he reported. Only in 2009 will a girl use a cell phone to talk to her dad when they are only a few hundred yards away! My husband was now there to take our toddler, so I ran over to take the girls to the school.

We found that the soap was working but the sinks were not; however, the water fountain was in order. The girls were busy playing with the soap and looking curiously at the wrestling team as they practiced in the gym. I walked out of the school just in time to see my daughter bat a run in – one of the only two runs we would score in that game. I jumped up and down in excitement.

We lost 7 to 2, but we were happy. My toddler was just happy to finally be allowed to eat the cupcakes we had made for the occasion. There were enough siblings from our team that they all disappeared quite quickly.

I got an email from that other coach that my daughter played a great game - and so, he was forgiven quite as quickly.