Baseball Widow

Game 2: West Side Redbulls at the Washington State Little League Baseball All Stars Tournament

July 20, 2008 5:24 PM | 0 Comments

It’s Sunday morning, Day 2 of the Washington State Little League Baseball All Stars Tournament for 9/10-year-olds. I begin the day at my usual breakfast post, at the La Quinta, WA, Make-Your-Own Waffle Iron. Tip: If you forget to use cooking spray, you’re history. You’ll spend the next ½-hour prying off pieces of waffle. This did not happen to me, but the guy at the Waffle Iron next door was really frustrated. I cheered him up by telling him he wouldn’t have to chew quite so much. This was metaphorically good preparation for the upcoming game, learning to deal with mauled waffles instead of perfect ones.

About 30 minutes before Game 2, my husband asked me to check on Austin and make sure he had eaten sufficiently and that he had applied sun screen, just what a 10-year-old boy really wants. As I rounded the dugout, I noticed it was really difficult to see the boys because of a draping that concealed them, but I shouted through it in the direction of a dim figure that I thought was my son. Austin tersely dismissed me, and a few minutes later one of the co-coaches told me that Austin told him twice to tell me that it was against the rules for me to talk to the players in the dugout and that this could have caused the expulsion of their manager from the tournament. YEEESSSHHHH!!! Touchy, touchy.

This time the Westside Red Bulls played against the Terminators, a group of serious batting automatons, who probably used steroids, too, even if they would have no affect on them because they were machines and not human. This is the only rational way of explaining the outcome of the game. Austin’s team was trounced, whomped, whooped, pulverized, frappéd. The final score was 27-0. It was so painful to watch; I just wanted it to end, but they had a rule that they had to play 4 innings. In this case, noone shed a tear, because they were all in a state of numb shock. It wasn't fun for anyone. I don't even think the victors enjoyed their spoils. My sports fan husband Bryan says this is where the true growth occurs. In sharp contrast to yesterday's glee, the mood was glum and somber. Mercifully the coaches decided to give the boys a day off on Monday, and many of us licked our wounds and pasta at The Old Spaghetti Factory.

That's today's report. I plan to go to straight to bed tonight and do little socializing in order to keep my reputation from tarnishing.

The Sports Widow
(aka Nan Hall)