Sunday was Northern Virginia Travel Baseball League's Opening Day. It was bright and sunny, but cold. Interestingly enough, this baseball mom has a part time gig as a basketball mom. So I spent most of Sunday inside a warm gym watching my middle son play in an AAU tournament. On the way to the gym, I passed at least three or four youth ballparks - their parking lots full of SUVs and mini vans, their bleachers full of parents wrapped up against the wind and their fields full of players basking in the immense possibilities that come with the first game of the season.
This had me thinking about an Opening Day a few years ago. It was cool and bright like this one and as full of hope and promise, but the hearts of my family and many in my neighborhood were dark and heavy. I wrote this piece the next day.
Originally published April 2015
It was Little League Opening Day on Saturday. It is one of my favorite days of the year. The sun shone bright and we almost forgot about the bitter winter we had endured. My older boys have aged out of Little League, but the little man gets to start his first year in the Majors this season. He, as my husband likes to say, was "shot out of a cannon" as soon as he woke up. I was to miss the opening ceremonies because I had to take my middle son to a basketball game, but I raced back to the park as quickly as I could to make it for the youngest's first Little League game of the season.
I pulled into the full parking lot as if a child looking for Santa. The ceremony was over but the park which had been empty and snow covered only weeks before was bustling with activity. Lines of children snaked between moon bounces and food trucks. Music blared and flags flew high over the fields.
This was a day my community needed. After such a brutal winter, we deserved the bright morning and the changing of the season laid out before us. Opening Day is the hope of pristine white pants (a hope that is dashed as soon as those cleats hit the grass). It is the possibility of a winning season. It is the promise of not one, not two, but at least three chances to swing for the fences. I was so ready for this day. I barely had my car in park before I was ready to rip off the seat belt and run up to find a flame-haired, freckle-faced boy with black lines smeared under his eyes. A boy who would adjust his catcher's mask with the utmost confidence that though he is small, he is fierce. Opening Day is full of promise.
No comments:
Post a Comment