Take Me Out to the Ball Game!

Scott and I spend a lot of our nights sitting at baseball games,
cheering on our son.

To be more accurate, I spend a lot of time crouching down in the dirt,

balancing on my high heels,

holding my telephoto lens between the crisscrossed wires of the chain link fence,

trying to capture
The Perfect Shot.

Giving up hours of free time to shiver in the drizzle certainly shows our love and devotion, doesn't it?
 Do they give out merit badges to parents?
We were so thankful the team started the season by winning the
majority of their games with the ten run rule.
To be honest, it wasn't parental pride, it was parental paralysis.
We just wanted to get home and warm up.

A great second baseman, Jon usually can be counted on to make an out.
(I know, I know, I sound like one of those moms.)

He could get on base more often if he didn't have to dance so much.

We all praise the batters, "Good Eye!"

But, wouldn't it be more accurate to be yelling,

"Hey kid, way to duck!"

"Way to jump, babe!"

Don't ask me why - this year "babe" is in vogue for cheering teenage boys on.

BASE HIT!



BEANED!

He didn't dance enough, this time.
 After hearing that sickening "thunk" of speeding baseball against bone,
I heard his teammates yelling,
"Yea, Jon! Way to take it for the team!"

Getting hit means a free limp to first base.
Getting to first base means he can steal his way to third and most likely be hit home.
Yea, we baseball parents encourage stealing - only bases, though.


SELF-PORTRAIT

Then, occasionally, you have that Perfect Baseball Day.
The sun is shining, your team is winning, and you have enough change in your pocket
to buy one of those all beef-nitrite/nitrate free hot dogs.
(We're in WA, remember.)

As I lean over the fence towards third base, the wires gouging little marks into my underarm,
I'm feeling the warmth of the evening sun and enjoying the all-American moment.
It is the stuff memories are made of.

I am in the presence of baseball.

I called my husband in the stands with my cell phone and had daughter, Bethany,
bring my second camera over to capture this photo.
 Just in case, in my old age, I forget that
once,
it didn't rain during a game.

Just once, I'm feeling,
"I don't care if I never get back..."

cuz I'm at my son's

"Old ball game."