Parenthood and Fielding Dreams

It wasn’t a good hit. The baseball lobbed over the pitcher’s head and rolled past second base. Occasionally a fly ball is caught or a grounder is stopped during a Triple A Little League baseball game, but not this time. The 9-year-old batter made it to second base with a needless slide. The crowd cheered.

I wonder what her memories of that hit will be thirty years from now. A homerun? A game winning hit? A close call on a triple? Whatever the memory, it most certainly will be more than what I saw. I know. I’ve been there. These are the things that fuel our dreams - the dreams of who we are and of what we can do.

The next batter, my son, steps up to the plate. The bat is almost as tall as he is. I can’t help but think of something Homer wrote in the Iliad, “Then taking up his dear son he tossed him about in his arms, and kissed him, and lifted his voice in prayer, saying…someday let them say of him: ‘He is better by far than his father.’”

My son stands slightly crouched, his bat held high. He is looking at the pitcher. Is he thinking one of my thirty-year-old memories? Don Drysdale of the Dodges is on the pitcher’s mound. Will he throw a sizzling fastball or a curveball?

My son swings the bat and makes a weak connection. The ball rolls 10 feet toward third base. He runs the baseline and slides into first base. Does it matter that he is not supposed to slide into first base? The crowd cheered anyway.

Someday my son and his teammates will give up chasing baseballs to go on dates, fix junk cars, get a job or go to college. Their dreams will change, but they will still be dreams of who they are and of what they can do. As parents, we will continue to cheer them on in all they do during these times.

Later in life, after they reach adulthood, the cheering will stop. The reality is nobody cares after a kid grows up. That is why it’s important to encourage them now, to keep them dreaming and to give them good memories to carry into their futures. Perhaps we can give them enough self-confidence in all areas of their lives so that when they do grow up, they will be better than we are: better in their thoughts, better in their actions, and better in their dealings with other people. I believe that this is every parent’s prayer.

After a couple more innings, the record book is full of walks, an occasional hit, and confusion. In the end my son’s team lost. But it won’t be the loss that they remember. They will remember the terrific hits, the diving catches, and the slides into home base. Then 18 kids, both the winners and the losers, walk off the field believing themselves as heroes. And the crowd cheered. We cheered not because any team won, but because they left with something more: that great potential to become better by far than we are.

This is an edited version. The original appeared in the Spencer New Leader, June 16-22, 1999. Tim Loftus March 2020.