More than a Game: The Hidden Gifts of Baseball in 2021

As a mom of three sports-addicted boys and the wife of one, I have spent the better part of each year of the last 17 of my life attending sporting events - mainly baseball practices and games. Around 2011, my youngest son grew old enough to play travel baseball, in addition to Little League, like his older brothers. This brought the number of teams I had to navigate to a total of at least three and sometimes as many as six during a single season. 

It was then that I knew I was going to have to convince myself that this was more than just a game. Once I factored in both the amount of money and of time we were tracking to spend on baseball, I was intent on discovering what that "more" was. What followed was the creation of my blog, The View From Behind Home Plate, where over the past ten years, much of my writing has centered on detailing the hidden gifts I have found while watching sports from the sidelines. And while I have come to love baseball at its most simplistic level - see the ball, hit the ball, catch the ball - I've learned to appreciate even more why we love it so much, why we give it so much of our energy and mental space, and why we grieve it so much when it's gone. 

Today we are slowly, but surely aging out of amateur baseball in my family. The teams I watch in person are down to one or two. The laundry is less overwhelming. The end of my days in the bleachers as the mother of a player are on the horizon. And though I would have thought I had learned it all, it is in the last 18 months - a time of both global upheaval and personal challenges - that I have more deeply understood why I am so devoted to baseball. 

READ THE REST HERE.

#Throwback Thursday: The Baseball Moms thank you, Mr. Jeter

 In honor of Derek Jeter's induction into the Hall of Fame, I thought I'd pull from the archives of this blog to post my tribute from way back in 2014 to the ways this Yankee brought wonder to a house full of Red Sox fans. Thanks, #2!

(Originally posted September 26, 2014)

I'm going to jump in on the Derek Jeter love today.  I know the internet is full this morning of posts on his final victorious game at home last night. There will be articles written by knowledgeable, legitimate sportswriters about him today, tomorrow and for years to come. They will detail his skill as a shortstop and as a hitter and a runner. I don't know all that much about that part of Derek Jeter. And though I know they are formidable, I can't rattle off his batting stats, how many rings he has or how many MVP awards he has.

I'm just a mom.

I'm just a mom of boys who play baseball and a wife of one who coaches. I'm a member of a house which has the tv tuned to ESPN or MLB network or NESN all the flippin' time. And I write a blog called The View from Behind Home Plate so, perhaps by marriage or by motherhood or simply by osmosis, baseball has become my thing. I've honestly not had much of a choice and I've come to appreciate the way sports can help my husband and me teach our kids about things like tenacity and teamwork, struggle and perseverance, failure and triumph. And, due to people like Derek Jeter, about character and humility. There has not been one time - not once - when I wanted to switch the channel when Derek Jeter was on the sports report.

In my family our loyalties run the gamut when it comes to Major League Baseball. Husband and the two oldest are diehard Red Sox fans. Little man loves the Dodgers lately.  I play the field, so to speak. I'm a Texas Ranger fan by birth. I'm a Boston Red Sox fan by marriage (and by my never-ending crush on Matt Damon and his accent in Good Will Hunting). This year I made a bold move and decided that I have officially, of my own accord, chosen my team: the Washington Nationals. No one in this family has ever - will ever - cheer for the Yankees.

And yet, my {this moment} this week? The moment I want to pause, savor and remember? It was that moment when Derek Jeter, a guy who plays for the Yankees (the YANKEES!!) busted a walk-off base hit in the bottom of the ninth to bring the runner home and win his very last home game for his team.

I don't have to tell you that the moments in the sports world that are worth pausing, savoring and remembering have been few and far between in the last few weeks. Sports is chock full of stuff we want to forget.  We watch over-hyped, over-paid, immature, selfish and even criminal athletes, who are put on pedestals, come crashing down as tales of their brokenness are shouted from commentators and news reporters.

But I can't help it. I love sports. I believe in sports. I love athletes and competition and teamwork. And I know sports has given and can give us better moments. Last night, baseball gave us better. It gave us Derek Jeter.

We watched the replay of that moment we've seen a thousand times this week. That play where Jeter goes diving into the stands and comes out all bloody and bruised (and kinda dreamy) with the ball in his glove.

We watched him take his position for one of the last times out on his field all the while breathing deep breaths in and out. We just knew that man was trying so hard not to cry. So, we cried for him.

And then {this moment}: When he came up to bat with a tie game and the winning run on base in the bottom of the ninth. At that moment there was a 45 year old woman in her pjs ironing a stack of wrinkled boy clothes. She thought that it would be too good to be true. You could not possibly write a script this good. When he had that base hit RBI to win his last game that woman dropped the iron and jumped up and down and yelled, "Oh my gosh!! He did it! Base hit, Jeter! Safe, safe, safe!!!"

Kyle ran sleepy eyed into my room and we both ran down the stairs to join Joe and Steve watching in the family room. My husband, my boys, and I all had the same expression while watching the replay over and over as Jeter jumped into his teammate's arms. We stared up at the tv, each of us with our mouths half wide open, the corners just barely curling into four disbelieving smiles.

I think of those faces as I write this now and it reminds me of two things I saw some where on the internet last night. One was someone saying that the problem with today's world with all of our advancements and intelligence and technology was that we have lost a sense of wonder. And another was someone tweeting about this final game saying, "All the feels, Jeter"

And this is why I love sports and moments like this. It was true that in that moment that we had all the feels: sadness, joy, gratitude, relief, nostalgia. All of them. And one more that shone on the faces of my Red Sox loving baseball boys.

Wonder.

I will not reach hastily for the remote today, Mr. Jeter. I'll let all the wonder of your career, your character and your skill stay on the tv and I'll even sit down and watch with them.

All the feels, #2. All of them. From a baseball-loving mom in the suburbs to you, sir: Many, many thanks.

Recovering from Your Child's Sports Injury: AKA What else do you want me to Power Wash, Hon?

As we near the end of October, my family and I are emerging from likely the most challenging fall sports season we have ever endured. There is just no other way to describe it. To be honest, there have been some tests of our resiliency and some soul searching, but it now appears we've come out on the other side okay.

Here's the situation. I don't mean to be dramatic, but you're going to want to brace yourself:

My son - who plays catcher - broke his thumb on a play at the plate in only the second game of the fall baseball season.

I'll give you some time for gasping and clutching your pearls.

What?

Perhaps you were thinking of something more serious? Perhaps a torn ACL? Tommy John surgery? A coaching scandal of some sort? A foul ball taken to the head?

No, just the thumb. The left one, to be exact.

Okay, okay. I do realize that on the spectrum of sports injuries this is not a tragedy. Also, he is but a young freshman, not a Varsity player. In fact, it's not as if we're even in the midst of the actual spring high school season.

It was a very small fracture in his thumb which based on the advice we received on our trips to the pediatrician, the radiologist, and the orthopedist required a brace, not a cast, and a mere three to four week period of rest.

READ THE REST HERE.

Field of Dreams: A Baseball Mom's Trip to the LLWS

I am one of those people who takes sports very seriously. Perhaps, too seriously. But to be honest, I have zero shame about it.

It is well known among my friends that my general well-being and outlook on life in the fall is completely dictated by the Texas Longhorns football team. If at all humanly possible, I will not miss a minute of any of the games my kids play. Sports are on my tv all day, every day. If I don't have a dog in the fight, I will pick a team. Futhermore, I will choose a random player on said team to be my favorite and cheer and pray for him as if I birthed him from my own body. Give me all your high school basketball games, your National championship games, your 7 game series, your Sunday at Wimbledon, and your 18th hole at the Masters. I'll take them all. I might be a complete weirdo about it, but I will own my weirdo-ness. My name is Jenn and I love the sports.

Of all of those many contests though, there is perhaps no sporting event that has grabbed a tighter hold on my heart than the Little League World Series. Every August I am glued to ESPN watching teams from eight regions of the United States and eight countries around the world compete in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. It is, in my opinion, the best sporting event in the history of history.

Of course, it might be because my three boys each played Little League along with travel baseball every year. It could be because my husband was coaching Little League with his high school buddies when I met him and continued to coach our boys over the years. And it could be due to the truth of the words of James Earl Jones to Kevin Costner in the movie, Field of Dreams:

"The only constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and could be again."

I mean:

This year there was a little something extra added in to make the LLWS better than ever. For the first time in 25 years the team from Virginia represented the Southeast region at the LLWS. Even better, that team was made up of 13 boys from my VERY OWN LITTLE LEAGUE, Loudoun South. Friends of mine had kids on the team. Little brothers of some of my boys' teammates were taking the field on national tv. News helicopters flew over our town's practice field and reporters showed up at our local restaurants' watch parties.

So basically for most of the summer our little community has been pretty much like this:

So it was that along with my son, Joe, who was not due back to college for a few days, I decided it was time to knock an item off the bucket list. We donned our Loudoun South gear, buckled into the car, and took the four hour drive to Williamsport to watch our very own boys play in the US semi-final game last week.

As we walked into the gates and saw the field from the top of the hill, I kept my cool and remained calm about the whole thing:

If that photo doesn't accurately convey my feelings, just know that on the inside I was pretty much like this:

The grass was perfectly green and spectacularly manicured. Big and little kids alike were sliding down the hill beyond centerfield on pieces of cardboard. The boys from Japan were taking on the boys from Korea in the International Semi-final on the field below.

Again, you can see that I was totally nonchalant about it:

My heart raced and my eyes filled. It was absolutely delightful. We walked around and ran into some of our Loudoun South peeps, including a friend who was one of the assistant coaches. I hugged him like he was my long lost brother and asked how he could possibly be walking around like a regular guy even though he was now clearly a very famous and legendary baseball coach. Where in the world was his bodyguard?

We hit the gift shop where we bought a Southeast tshirt WITH THE NAME OF OUR VERY OWN TOWN ON IT.

Later we grabbed a hot dog and some M&Ms and wandered over to the media area where Joe, who is a broadcast journalism major, spotted one of his heroes, Major League Baseball analyst, Tim Kurkjian.

Then as luck would have it, we ran into a local DC news reporter who asked if we'd like to be interviewed about the community's excitement about the team. Joe was all in because he doesn't get nervous, but I was a little unsure. Then the reporter told me that he was stunned that Joe and I were mother and son. He had been sure that we were brother and sister.

After the reporter got over his COMPLETE SHOCK AND AWE he said, "Cool. We'll talk to Joe about playing for Loudoun South in the early days and then to you about the baseball mom perspective." 

At that point, I thought long and hard about it for about 3.5 seconds, threw my M&Ms and diet coke on the ground, sidled right on up next to the microphone, and was pretty much like this:

Despite my charm and stage presence, as it turns out Joe's interview was aired on the 11 o'clock news that night and mine was cut out.

Let's just say, I played more of a . . . um . . . supporting role. 

Hey Channel 9:

No big deal. We were here for the baseball, so we found our way to the stands and watched the rest of the International game. I put on my "throwback" Loudoun South baseball cap and proceeded to snap way more selfies than a grown woman should.

With a little help from some friends who spotted us and saved us some seats we ended up making our way to sit only a few rows behind our Loudoun South parents for the big game vs. Hawaii. I was thrilled to hug and congratulate some friends and listen to all the amazing stories of their experiences in Williamsport. The game didn't start out so great for us as we ended up down 8-2 pretty early, so some would have thought this would be a blow out. Our boys have no quit in them though and before we knew it they had clawed and fought their way back to tie it up.

Unfortunately, things started to get a little dicey again and our boys were down a few runs. At that point, Joe says to me, "Little Henson is warming up in the bullpen."

Little Henson is the little brother of a kid Joe had played Little League with about eight or nine years ago. I knew Little Henson when he was 3 or 4 years old playing in the dirt while his older brother was on the field. Now, he was about to pitch on prime time ESPN. When he trotted out to the mound Joe and I pretty much lost our minds.

This was a high pressure situation and I couldn't help but think of this kid as a mere toddler. Then that "toddler" went and pitched two scoreless innings. LIKE A BOSS. 

In the end our boys battled their little rear ends off, but ended up losing 12-8. They held their heads high and handled the loss with grace and hope for the next game. We hugged and high fived our friends good-bye. Joe drove us all the way home while I slept in the back seat since I had worn myself slap out by cheering and worrying about all those kids as if they were my very own flesh and blood. 

Without question, our day at the Little League World Series was one of the most fun experiences not only of this summer, but perhaps of any summer. I've been to Fenway Park where I watched Big Papi hit a homerun. I've watched the Washington Nationals from the fancy suites. And still, there is no venue I would rank above Lamade Stadium in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. It is truly a field of dreams.

A note to the boys of the 2019 Loudoun South Little League team:

At end of the day, it wasn't the beautiful field, the electric atmosphere, the bright lights, the famous reporters, or the Major Leaguers in the booth that made our day. Above all else, it was the thirteen of you.

You - with your big hearts and your big fight. You - with your humility and charm and perfect manners on tv in front of millions. You - with your support of each other, your fierce determination, and the ferocious way you went about your business.  You - who inspired our family to sit around the kitchen and remember stories of plays and errors and triumphs from the boys' days playing Little League. You - who made us shake our heads in wonder and smile and clap our hands in delight when we spotted you on tv.

It was you, boys. As the days of summer started to fade, I decided to bring the first Little Leaguer whose cleats I tied tight and whose basehits I cheered to one last ball game before he left for college. And it was you who gave us one of the most memorable and fun experiences that we have had together in the twenty years I have been his mama. Oh boy, did we have a day.

You lived out the dreams of so many right before our very eyes. Thank you for doing it so well. Welcome home, kiddos.

Photo Credit: George J Puskar

Baffled Behind the Plate: Things I Still Don't Get After 15 Years as a Baseball Mom

School is finally out here in Northern Virginia which means we've officially started Summer Travel Baseball around these parts. Summer baseball is similar to Spring baseball except that it involves significantly more sitting in traffic on I-95, more fast food, more sweating, and more overnights in Hampton Inns where I lie awake wondering if we might have embarked on a scientific breakthrough because it seems like my son is growing a new strain of bacteria in his cleats.

It occurred to me as I sat at the sixth game of the weekend at a field in Rocky Mount, North Carolina that this was my 15th summer of watching at least one of my kids on the diamond. You would think it would follow that I would be an expert in baseball knowledge. Surely, I've seen every game situation and strategy, every type of coach and umpire, every manner of fan, and every  level of ball player. There couldn't possibly be a single rule or circumstance surrounding the game that would confuse or surprise me at this point in my life, right?

Wrong.

At just about the same time as this thought entered my head, there was a call on the field that left me looking pretty much like this:

The good news is that I wasn't alone in my confusion. I'm not throwing anybody under the bus, but in my experience there can be an equal amount of bewilderment during certain situations in a baseball game by both moms and dads, and even coaches and umpires. (Don't tell anyone I said that.) Thankfully, there always seems to be at least someone who eventually figures it out or at least speaks forcefully enough to convince everyone. In general, I just nod my head and pretend I understood all along. But here's the thing about a whole bunch of rules and circumstances involving America's game:

So if you find yourself only a few seasons or fifteen seasons into being a spectator of this game and you still seem baffled at times, I'm here for you. I'm going to give you my most up to date list of things about baseball that I still don't understand and likely never will after 15 years of watching the game. They are things that have surprised me and confused me. They have left me shaking my head in wonder and sometimes just plain flat out frustrated me to no end. Some of these things have been explained to me over and over and I'm still in the dark.  Here goes.

READ THE REST HERE.

Talking Points: How to Support Your Youth Athlete this Season

I've been around the horn a few times as a mom of three current and/or former baseball players and the wife of a youth coach.

All three of my boys started playing baseball as 5 year olds with tee ball. We've played travel ball and Little League. We've frequented hitting lessons, pitching lessons, catchers' clinics and strength and agility training. Over the past fifteen years or so, I have sat in bleachers and fold up chairs and the waiting rooms of indoor facilities countless times. Add in as many years on the sidelines of a basketball court and that means I have seen or heard every sort and type of sports parent. And if I'm honest, I have, in fact, been every sort and type of sports parent - good and bad - at one time or another myself.

If you have happened here on this blog you're likely involved in youth sports in some way, so I don't have to tell you that there are a zillion and one opinions about how to be a reasonable, supportive, sports parent. I am certain that there are folks with fancy degrees and legitimate professional training who could give advice much more effectively than me on how to successfully parent a student athlete. 

So, at the outset, let me say it loud and clear: Despite having been involved for so many years, I am not an expert on being any kind of parent. I'm pretty sure as soon as you name yourself an expert in anything you have set yourself up for spectacular failure. I have gotten things wrong over and over again when counseling my kids and I imagine that my future parenting moments will be wrought with mistakes. What I have is just a little bit of time behind me and a heckuva a lot of hours sitting behind home plate.

READ THE REST HERE.

Don't Fear the Final Inning

As I sit down with my laptop to write for NVTBL today, I'm watching the College Baseball Super Regional on TV. My Texas Longhorns have a three run lead, but the bad guys have bases loaded with one out.

So it follows that in addition to writing and watching, I am holding my breath and clinching my hands together and using all of my well honed jedi mind tricks to convince the baseball gods to extend my team's season by at least one more game.

I believe in the baseball world this is otherwise known as "DO NOT CHANGE YOUR SEAT. DO NOT GO TO THE RESTROOM. KEEP YOUR FEET, HANDS, TOES, FINGERS AND ALL OTHER BODY PARTS IN THE EXACT SAME POSITION OR ELSE YOU WILL RUIN THE MOJO AND THE BAD GUYS WILL WIN AND IT WILL BE ALL YOUR FAULT FOREVER MORE."

I will grant you that in the days when May turns to June and the end of the baseball season looms ominously and ever closer in the distance, it's possible that I take it a little far when it comes to my rituals, prayers and superstitions. And yet, I know that there are many fans in bleachers, in fold up chairs, and in stadium seats around the country who understand my specific brand of crazy.

Of course, we want to win because winning is indisputably more fun than is losing. But as I sit here feeling all of these familiar feelings of hope and uttering all of these oft-repeated pleas that maybe, just maybe this could not be the end for my team, I realize that in the last few weeks, this has been a universal feeling for parents at baseball diamonds all around the country. Whether it's Little League or NVTBL play offs or High School post-season play or the College World Series, countless moms and dads have held their collective breaths waiting and praying and hoping for their players to give them just one more day at the ballpark (or on the couch with the television tuned to the Longhorn Network, as the case may be.)

Because no matter if it's the parent of a "Little League-age-12 year old" or of a high school senior or even of a grown man playing in his last college game, for us parents, it's not as much about facing losing as it is about facing the possibility of that true, final inning.

READ THE REST HERE.

Sunshine & Hope On Opening Day

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.

READ THE REST HERE.

5 Friday Favorites: April 6, 2018

Hi, Friends! It's Friday! And it's time for my Friday link up with A Little Bit of Everything, Grace and Love, and Momfessionals. 

It has been quite a busy week getting back into our routine after being away for more than a week. There's been a whole lot of laundry. SO MUCH LAUNDRY. But, I refuse to put Tide Pods and Bounce Dryer sheets on my list of favorite things this week so let's dig a little deeper.

1. Burt's Bees Tinted Lip Balm

Are you wondering if there will ever be a Friday that I don't include some sort of lip product on 5 Friday Favorites? Well, you're going to have to keep wondering because I'm doing it again. No matter how responsible I tried to be with skin care and sunscreen while I was in Florida, there was no denying that when my previously hibernating body felt that hot sun, it was going to take a hit. My lips were no exception. I picked up this Burt's Bees Lip Balm in Red Dahlia at the CVS while I was there and I loved it. It goes on really smooth - not too thick or sticky - and has a very subtle tint to it. You'll notice that at Amazon you can get it marked down from $7.48 to $7.11 which if you get out your calculator and do the complicated math is a savings of a whole 37 cents. Is it your lucky day or what?

2. New Spring/Summer PJs

If there is anything besides lipsticks, balms, and glosses that I cannot resist putting in my online shopping cart, it's pajamas. Especially if they are a set that has a short sleeve top and long bottoms. While we were away I got a handy-dandy email alert from JCrew that their entire site was 40% off. I snatched up this Vintage Short Sleeve Pajama Set as quick as I could. Unfortunately, today they aren't 40% off. I'm not the boss of you, but these might be worth it. I am thinking I need another pair in another color because pjs are my jam. Also a note: I think they are supposed to be cropped, but for me (5'2") they come just past my ankle which I love. Long enough, but not enough to skim the floor and get dirty.

3. Spring Dresses (A Girl Can Dream)

Loft Embroidered Stripe Midi Dress On Sale

Loft Maxi Dress On Sale

Loft Border Paisley Tie Waist Dress On Sale

Apparently, it's supposed to snow here tomorrow and thinking about spring dresses makes zero sense in that regard. I don't even care. Let me live, Al Roker. You really can't go wrong at Loft if you're looking for reasonably priced dresses, so even if you get one of these and simply wear it around your house and sit by a fire in it, just know that I affirm that decision. Carry on.

4. Books I've Read or Am Reading This Week

I kept hearing about An American Marriage by Tayari Jones, so I downloaded it on my Kindle on the way home from Florida. I am just barely into the first chapter and I can tell it's going to be great.

I read Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis perhaps faster than I've read a book in a long, long time. It is fabulous and absolutely the kick in the pants I need in my life right now. Rachel is funny and inspiring and pulls no punches. In the first chapter, she says this: "As a Christian I grew up learning that God was in control, that God had a plan for my life, and I believe in the marrow of my bones that this is true. I believe God loves each of us unconditionally, but I don't think that means we get to squander the gifts and talents he's given us simply because we're good enough already. A caterpillar is awesome, but if the caterpillar stopped there - if she just decided that good is good enough - we would all miss out on the beautiful creature she would become. You are more than you have become."

I loved this book, The Hate U Give, by Angie Thomas so much. It is different than anything I've read before and is told from the perspective of a teen who witnesses the shooting of her childhood friend by a police officer. I would recommend it for your high school aged kids as well.

Ok. This is a bit of a white lie. I did not read Same Kind of Different as Me this week or even this year. I read it a very long time ago. I can't even remember when. However, Kyle and I watched the movie this week because he has read it as well. The movie was not great. Not terrible, but just absolutely nothing compared to the book which is one of my favorite reads ever. I highly, highly recommend the book, I only barely recommend the movie.

5. Being a Baseball Mom 

(even if my kid isn't playing)

I know this is going to come as a shock to you, but I love baseball. Especially Little League and High school baseball. I love baseball players even if they're not my own flesh and blood. Here's the thing. When I started this blog, I was the mother of three baseball players that I had birthed myself. This year, technically, I only have one. My oldest is in college now and spends his time in the booth calling games and my middle gave up the game to focus on basketball last year. The youngest - a middle schooler - is still swinging. (See what I did there?)

I don't have a player on the high school team this year. And yet, whenever possible you will find me in the bleachers cheering like it's my job for our Varsity team this season. Because after basically living life with the same group of families on various teams for well over ten years, I will tell you with absolute certainty that I still consider myself a baseball mom to a whole mess of boys that aren't mine. With very few exceptions, the boys on the high school team have played on teams with at least one of my boys at least once in the past ten years. I'm praying for guidance for those who are looking to play in college and for healing for those who are injured. I'm dancing in the stands to between-inning music and huddling close to friends when the sun goes down to keep warm. I'm high-fiving  mamas when their kid rips a single up the middle and I'm cheering like a maniac when our boys fight back from being on the wrong end of a 6-2 score to win with an extra inning walk-off. And there isn't a Skinner boy to be found on the diamond. I can't quit you baseball and I can't quit the boys I've been watching swing for the fences since we had to double knot their cleats. Let's play ball, friends. I'm in.

Disclosure: The View From Behind Home Plate is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affliate advertising program designed to provide a means to earn small fees by linking to amazon.com

Spring Break Summary: Including That Time My Kid Said I Was Right

Well, after a Spring Break week spent with Drew's baseball team in glorious sunshine and the cloudless, blue skies of Florida, we have returned to Northern Virginia where apparently Spring goes to die a sad, lonely death.

Just kidding. Truly, I am. I mean, it is grey and cold and raining today, but I am bound and determined to hold on to the hope and positive vibes that a restful vacation brings me. It is remarkable what the sun, sand and ocean waves can do for my spirit. Add the miracle of Easter to the end of the week and I am completely renewed.

So I am going to recap a few highlights from the week which included driving thousands of miles and stopping at numerous gas stations, listening to hours of podcasts and reading two whole books, gazing at sunsets and giggling at my boys, cheering baseball players and chatting with their mamas and also a blue drink called a Jet Ski from the beach side bar that was joy in a plastic cup.

To start though, I will share with you, dear readers - especially, you moms - the most important event of the entire week - a moment brought to you by the voice of a severely sunburned teenager, the day after he was told no less than 7,000 times by his mom to put on more sunscreen as he lay on the Florida beach.

"MAAAAAAA! Why don't you smack me upside the head when I don't listen to you?"

(Note: There is no paraphrasing here. No artistic license. This is exactly what was uttered into the universe for my very own ears to hear by my seventeen year old knucklehead.)

And I don't mind telling you that before I went on to offer compassion and aloe vera lotion, I stood in awe and wonder at what I had just heard and my insides pretty much did this:

In honor of this momentous occasion when a child I birthed into the world saw fit to acknowledge that I was right about something, I would like to thank the Academy and my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Just in case you think I'm taking too much pleasure in that turn of events, calm down. It was fine. A day out of the sun, some aloe, ibuprofen, icy towels and a whole lot of peeling skin and he survived to live another day of ignoring most of what I have to say.

After spending many days on the beach, we had a great time watching Drew's spring baseball team play their first game of the season at Eckerd College in Tampa. They won big.

After the game, the whole mess of us went to get ice cream at a building shaped like an ice cream cone which seemed like the most logical way to celebrate the blessed return of baseball.

Joe flew in from State College, PA for a few days so I was so happy to have the whole family together. The boys had a blast and I got a little misty eyed realizing that it appears that more often than not they really are the best of friends. It is one of a mama's greatest hopes and I pray it will continue.

I will say that our hotel left a little to be desired, but I was so happy to be in the warm weather that I tried really hard to get over it. The silver lining was that I became very adept at being sure that my feet never actually touched the floor. I am so skilled that one night when one of my socks fell off while I was sleeping, I had to hop on one foot to the bathroom and I did so with great success. Please hold your applause. Here's a peek at my girls and me getting a glamour shot at what we labeled the hotel's "Grand Staircase". Please notice the lovely hues of purple, red and turquoise on the walls and carpet.

In the end, the sunsets made up for everything. They were stunning every single night.

Of course, the Skinner family can't let vacation get in the way of multiple sporting events and since the NCAA Women's and Men's Basketball tournaments were going on, there was no doubt that we would find ourselves a tv a time or two to watch some hoops.



Warning to all the college basketball players: If you make a last second winning shot there is a 100% chance I will re-watch it 700 times and cry my ever-lovin' eyes out as if I gave birth to you. It doesn't matter if I have never heard of you or even of your school. The number of children I have "birthed" during this NCAA tournament is too many to count. Yes, I might have named my boys boring, run-of-the mill names like Joe, Kyle and Drew, but do not doubt that I have been officially behaving as if I also have a daughter named Arike Ogunbowale. While we're at it, let's just say I have a sister named Muffet McGraw. Give me all the buzzer beaters. I heart sports so darn much.

On the way back home we stopped in Columbia, South Carolina to check out the University of South Carolina. It was a lovely campus. My favorite part was the enormous Strom Thurmond Wellness Center which basically looks like the country club that Troy and Gabriella worked at in High School Musical 2.

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After spending six nights at a beach hotel, when we spent the night in the Courtyard Marriott in Columbia, I felt like a princess in a castle.

The drive home the next day was really long, but we were able to live stream the Big Ten Network so that we could listen to Joe make his debut as a baseball broadcaster when he called the Penn State vs. Purdue baseball game. We were just as proud as we could be and it helped make the trip a little more bearable.

I was so happy to make it back to our church for Easter and after the service I literally felt like it was a new year. I suppose there are challenges in all seasons of life, of course. And for me, the literal season of winter is particularly difficult. There have been times during these last months that I think I have closed myself off from facing the change that comes with reality of my children becoming grown-ups. With one gone to college and one with a foot out the door and one who is a full fledged teenager, I have spent many days - not all, but many - confused and frankly fearful as to what this future means for them, for me, for us. I have spent time wanting to turn back, to slow time, to pull up the covers and pretend that life can stay the same when in fact it can't. It shouldn't.

But that Easter Sunday, surrounded by familiar hymns and the reminder of the defining moment of my faith, I felt the stirring reminder that our Lord remains the same and that He has always and will always have good things in store for us and for those we love. We are able then to look past the dark of winter and remember the victorious words, "He is not here. He has risen. Just as he said." I have celebrated Easter for almost 50 years and just this year, I have seen a quote numerous times this week that I had never once seen before. No matter what we have gone through in our past and no matter what we will go through in the uncertain future we will always know this:

We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song.

-Pope Saint John Paul II

Amen, Amen and Amen.

Happy Springtime to you, friends. (even if it doesn't feel like Spring quite yet!)