Letter to the opposing coach

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . April 23, 2010 . 3:06PM

Dear opposing team VOLUNTEER DAD coach,

Last night, as I sat in the rain to watch my 9-year-old play, after my full day of practicum and class, I watched you make a donkey of yourself. You made me really angry, so what I am about to say is probably going to shock you and several other people, but I’ve had a really bad several months and you know what they say about my give a flip…it’s busted.

When you ran over to the umpire to not just chastise him for a call, but yell at that 17-year old kid because of the placement of the glove on the little kid’s chest, it was all I could do not to take my super strength golf umbrella and define “rip him a new one” for you without using google. Do you know what that phrase means? It means that you can push a 17-year-old kid around, but you are modeling behavior for my 9-year-old kid. Not doing the same poor behavior in front of him is the only thing that stopped me from showing you that you cannot bully everyone.

In the South, they call what you did “showing your ass” and sir, you certainly did. For the rest of the game, the parents did not focus on their children. They nervously bit their lips and watched your reactions. You were the free entertainment. Your own child, whichever poor soul he was, was certainly not focused on the game.

I have dealt with people like you before and let me tell you, they get what they deserve. Maybe not on a little league field, but in life. The manager who browbeat her staff got fired hardcore and couldn’t find a job for months. Karma is a very real thing. Last night, we all got a nice little treat of how you act, but the worst part of it was that we saw what your family puts up with on a regular basis and we felt for them.

It might be time to relax, my friend. Strokes and heart attacks are not to be messed with. Deep breathing and some time at the spa might do you, and the rest of us by proxy, some good.

Sincerely,

Me

Things you don’t say to other people’s kids

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . September 2, 2009 . 11:03AM

Well, baseball fans, Fall season ’09 is upon us and the one thing we know already about Fall Season ’09 is this: it’s not about the competition.

In our league, fall is a time for learning. Kids move up to the next level, if applicable, and often, this is a time for kids that have never played to find out if this is a sport that interests them.

Some of the implications of this are crowded teams and frustration for the kids that have already played and know what they’re doing. It also means sheer boredom for the parents who are looking for an exciting game, especially at our level.

The 9/10 year old kids start the beginning of kid pitch and this means there are a lot of walks and a lot of flinching as the ball heads toward the plate. It also means that I have some observations with a new team that I can’t necessarily say out loud. Hence, the list that should never be said aloud.

Things that are not ok to say to other people’s kids

If you run like that and a girl sees you, she’s going to laugh at you for running like a girl.

“My feet hurt” is not an excuse to quit practicing. If you are this kid’s parent and you cater to this, I’m going to mock you out loud.

If you “pitch” a ball at my kids head on purpose and it hurts him, I reserve the right to make you see God myself. Screw your pansy parents.

If you are 9 or 10 and cringe and duck when a ball comes at you, yet you have a dad who takes the time to come to practice, call it a year and you and dad go play dodgeball until you are ready to play. This is baseball, not “cuddles.”

Quit looking at the sky/twirling/playing sudoku on dad’s phone between innings. If you aren’t here to play, get off the team.

Do NOT tick me off. I am in charge of snacks for the team now and then.

Don’t make fun of the fat mom. She’s hot. And tired. And hungry.

Listen to your coach. He obviously cares more than your incredibly permissive parents.

I care about you, which means I want you to WIN. Quit whining and walk it out.

The grandmother that comes to watch every game can beat you in a foot race. If you don’t want to run, I’m sure there is a TV team somewhere that needs a player.

Ok, so it’s harsh. I warned you it was stuff you think but don’t say outloud. Stay tuned for my parental observations. Here’s to a new season!

Sliding is hard

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . September 1, 2009 . 2:30PM

When I played softball, for 8 years, I would like to think that I played hard. I did what I was told, most of the time, and I loved the sport, so I tried to do my best. First base was my spot of choice and I think I was probably the most capable person on our team to play there. I rarely got moved, with the exception of the times we needed a pitcher and they wanted to scare the other team with my erratic, and sometimes decent, throwing style.

One aspect of the sport that I could never quite “get” was sliding. It wasn’t that I tried and I couldn’t understand how to do it. It was that I adamantly decided, early on, that I just wasn’t going to do it. Period. End of story. No. No. No. I’m a team player, but that is out of the question. Where did this come from? T-ball.

Yep. I tried to slide in t-ball. Not just any slide. I tried to Petey into second base in t-ball. I’d seen it on TV. It’s what you were supposed to do.

I skinned the crud out of my hands and knees and would never try it again. It didn’t matter that this was irrational thinking. Sliding wasn’t my friend and I would just have to run harder or not steal, both of which I did in great amounts.

Now, we come to my adorable, precious child. A.J. wants to slide. He sees the other kids, who have been taught to slide, and wants to do it because it looks cool. Friday night, we had a scrimmage game and he ran back to second base. About that time, his coach and I both watch him ROLL over the base. When his coach yelled, “A.J., what just happened?” He said, “I was sliding back to second.”

I’m not making fun of my son, but he looked like a dog rolling in the dirt after a bath. Ok, I’m making fun a little. He just doesn’t know how to do it. Now we know that he wants to learn. His coach hid his face and said “No sliding back to second.”

Nope. No sliding. Sliding is hard. Run faster or don’t steal. Or learn how to do it properly. I think we may break the cycle with this one and learn how to do it properly.

Or continue to roll over the base.