I learn something from Coach tonight as well...

Tonight was Jack's 4th baseball game in 4 nights, and all of them have started after 7 pm. Never mind that I personally find this reprehensible, we pulled on our Red Sox and dutifully took the field. Jack has been having problems with his fielding. The game just hasn't clicked for him yet. The ball is hit, he watches the play and forgets at times that he is actually IN the game and the game speeds by him. It has been getting frustrating for me to watch this as I want my son to succeed at whatever he chooses to do-up until baseball it has come naturally to him, no real learning curve needed. Watching these past 4 games, I have come to the realization that he just doesn't get it. He plays in the outfield and he doesn't know where the ball goes once he has it. He plays second base and he doesn't move to the bag to cover it (despite my continued shouts and urging for him to do so). It has been getting so I spend more time telling him where to go rather than following the flow of the game, enjoying the beauty of a boy's game with friends. That is, until tonight...

Jack continues to struggle, and I continue to slowly turn into THAT Dad, you know the one, constantly correcting his son from the sideline. Jack was up to bat, gets on base but because of a miscommunication with his coach gets caught in a double play. I do my usual "Good job, Jack" as he runs without looking at me into the dugout. During the next inning as Jack is in the outfield, the coach comes to me and says "Bring Jack over when he comes in. Give him some encouragement. He sat and cried in the dugout after the mistake with the base running. I told him it was okay and that he was doing a great job, but it may be better coming from you." UGH. My heart broke at that very moment. My son had been listening to everything I had been screaming to him and he just felt bad that he didn't do the "right" thing. My inadvertent attempts to make him into the player I never could be caused him to think that I was somehow disappointed in how he was playing, somehow a failure. I felt and actually still feel like a heel-a piece of absolute feces for causing my son to feel this way. And it wasn't just tonight. I vaguely remember seeing streaks of dirt in tear tracks on his face last night as well. When the game was over, I took him aside and gave him a huge hug, told him how proud I was of him and that I love to watch him play. Gone are the bleacher coach remarks, the yells to cover the base, the screams to get his elbow up in the batting box. All gone-all to be replaced by only positive remarks, no criticism, constructive or otherwise, will be uttered again. I realized tonight that my comments toward my son, while well intentioned, fell onto already struggling, self deprecating 8 year old ears. I was the failure tonight, and I hope in time my boy forgives me.

I would like to thank his coach, for being so caring to my son, supporting his efforts and his emotions. I would also like to thank him for dressing down his father without saying a single negative thing to him... His comment made me feel 6 inches tall and I deserved every bit of it. I am relieved to have a saint for Jack's coach...Lord knows, we need someone to guide us through the Hell of Little League baseball....