It was the worst of times; it was the best of times.
If the final tournament had been the first games of the season, I would have prayed for losses in the first two games, so we could go home. I know--bad dad.
After middle-school tryouts for the 8th-grade team (as a 6th grader) were unsuccessful, our attentions turned to mainstream Little League. School sports are "The Bomb!" [that's good, by the way.] The kids stay after school for practice and then ride their bikes home. Little League is short for: you re-arrange every aspect of your life so you can be a roadie for your budding baseball star. It's a combination of love and vicarious competition. We planned to make fun of Little League families. And AYSO soccer families [AYSO = All Your Saturdays are Occupied.] And, well, lots of other families....
Now, here I was at the Little League equivalent of the NFL Combine. They were fielding, throwing, pitching, hitting, trying to field, trying to throw, trying to hit... Cameron was one of a handful of sweatpants and hoodie boys in a sea of baseball pants and bubble-gum wads. The 8 coaches stood by with clipboards, making various marks, frowns, and eye-rolls. A month later, we found out Cameron would be on Coach Brad's team. Two months later, we found out that Chuck had a "man crush" on Coach Brad and was a total team fan. So embarrassing...
We won the coach-lottery with Coach Brad and Coach Mike. They had excellent time management skills--keeping 3 or 4 different "stations" active for each group of boys at practices; kept the parents completely informed about everything necessary to be a good baseball "roadie;" taught a bunch of Bad News Bears how to be baseball players and teammates; and demonstrated amazing sportsmanship and perspective at every turn. Cameron went from essentially being a non-player to being a gifted 1st-baseman.
Cameron had never really been on a winning team, so the first several wins of the system made for quite the ride. The first loss to the hand-picked "all star" Devilbacks was a familiar pill to swallow. The second loss to The Boom (Jackson's team) nearly sunk the ship. We all barely recovered from that one. But it was an excellent teaching lesson. They entered the playoffs tournament in second place behind the hand-picked "all star" Devilbacks. A harsh second-round loss to The Boom (Jackson's team) sent them to the Loser's Bracket [oops, we call that the "lower bracket" in Commie Land,] and started them on a long, fairy tale ride back to the championship game.
Against every odd known to 11-yr-old sports [including 3 innings with their 1st-baseman pitching (Cameron),] they beat the Devilbacks! Chuck was so excited that he hugged 2 people who were just looking for the dog park. They ran off muttering something about stranger danger... Many of the Devilbacks were in tears. The post-game Devilbacks picnic was in shatters. But ding-dang double-elimination--the boys had to play them again after a 15 minute break. And they would have beat them again (in extra innings) if it weren't for some really bizarre in-field-fly-rule call and the fact that their 8th-string pitcher got shelled. But still, it was an amazing night. And amazingly long. And amazingly hard to go to sleep afterward. That's the problem with being a fan.
But what a gift to have worst times and best times. Especially the best times.
* post written by Chuck