We aren’t in Petaluma anymore

My first baseball tournament experience with my 9 year old son and a newly formed team. Jacob is a pretty coordinated kid, tall for his age, a powerful batter and a sometimes dreamy fielder. And that’s at home during regular little league.
This is totally different. This is technical, psychology-of-the-game, learn immediately from your mistakes and make the necessary corrections kind of baseball.
This is Jacob’s second tournament (I wasn’t at the 1st one). He’s struck out at every at bat. Not an experience he’s used to. There were tears.
His normal dreaminess on the field is now a total liability. He needs to be ready at every play. Ready means feet moving, eyes on the ball, READY.
So I’m mostly holding my breath, watching, trying to keep my mouth shut. Just cheer mom.
So fun isn’t exactly what I’m experiencing. But somehow, I think Jacob is. Weird.
My friend, Lori, remembers fondly the ‘love eyes’ my boys gave her when she had them in her kindergarten class. Jacob looks at his coaches like that. He hangs on their words, nods earnestly, tries as hard as he can.
But he’s 9. A goofy, sensitive, tall for his age 9 year old.
Game two of this tournament is about to start and this blog post is my pep talk to self. I’m here to cheer. And pray for a hit. Just want to see Jacob smiling and proud of himself.
Play ball!!

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