Fireworks

Last night started off a very festive holiday weekend with sister Scooby hosting a pool party with fireworks. There was lots of great food and awesome fireworks set off at the school down the street from the house. It was wonderful...

As we sat enjoying the beautiful colors of the sky show, there was another set of fireworks erupting in the adjacent state as Buddy's flame burned higher and brighter than any other man made pyrotechnic display. While watching the rockets red glare, there were bombs bursting elsewhere. It seemed surreal as the roman candles burned brightly, I received a call from dad. Buddy is warming up and will go in the game during the 8th inning, which was the exact time that the fireworks were exploding.

According to dad, he walked the first batter on a 3-2 pitch. The second batter placed a bunt and moved the batter to second base. The second batter was out. So, there was 1 out with a man on second. This is nothing for my son. He thrives on a bit of stress, and this was nothing...until....

Sparky the coach walks out from the dugout, tells him that he stinks (my cleaner version of the comment) and pulls him from the game. Mortified, he sits in the dugout while the next pitcher throws a wild pitch advancing the runner to third base then balks with the winning run scoring. The team loses....dad and Buddy lit off rockets that were seen throughout the Midwest and Southeast US. In fact, I think that the beautiful fireworks display that I was watching was a further manifestation of what was happening in Ohio.

Does it sound like I am making excuses for my son? Nope....the first, second and third pitchers were wild and gave up 5 runs. Buddy did not have a chance to settle in to the game. The last time that he pitched was 8 days ago. The coach expected him to stand up and throw the ball across the plate with no practice. It is bizarre.

On the way home from the party, I received not 1, not 2, but 3 phone calls from 2 angry people. The calls went something like this..."#$AM)STD%%%*&<.....furthermore....*U@#!@@@(^$% Coach...*&$V(%^....wasting my time &^*%%$#$..." Get the picture?

I calmed him down and we all agreed (I am glad that dad was there to witness it) that he would speak to the coach...keep it under 1 minute because Sparky would be unable to follow a conversation for a longer period of time...The plan was made and we said good night...

An early morning wake up call (thanks dad) to discuss the matter further began my day. We worked out the details of the plan and made a few decisions. First, the conversation with Sparky will take place today. Buddy will tell him in a nonthreatening, factual way that he has not been given the opportunity to display his talents or develop under the coach's tutelage. Second, he needs to know what the coach's intentions for him are and that he needs some type of schedule as to if and when he is going to pitch. Without a schedule, he cannot work out. His coach at his college gave him a routine for each day with running, weight lifting, aerobics, stretching, and so on. He cannot do any of the activities if he is going to throw. if he does not know when he is going to throw, then he cannot train....see the dilemma? Also, he has lost a significant amount of weight with his illness and inability to train. With weight loss comes muscle loss and results in a slower fast ball.

With that said, after the conversation with Sparky, he is going to call his coach at school and share the details. He will follow any advice that the coach gives him. Further, he has our blessing to leave the team and return home to train with coaches who understand the game and how to develop players. He actually has my permission to resign from the team. The goal of improving and being given innings to improve his fast ball have not been forthcoming. If anything, he is regressing...

And so....Look up in the sky tonight...if you see an errant rocket exploding, it could be the results of Buddy's conversation with Sparky and Stinky Pete....What ever his college coach decides, Buddy will abide by...this means if he is told to leave the team to train at home with professional coaches, he will....sadly, we'll miss the cheap wine and Bullpen Boogie...and so it goes in the life of a bullpen kid.

Have a great weekend...off to party number two......