H=Hulk

Good frigid morning! Yep, we still do not have heat on the first floor and as I tried to be McGyver and look at the heating unit myself. Equipped with my flashlight and vacuum cleaner, the intrepid mom discovered a pool of water at the bottom of the furnace. I do believe that BP McGyver is out of her league on this one. Therefore, we wait for the heating guy to show up some time this century.



On to the big leftie...yep, he had his meeting with the head coach who wants to see him succeed. Again, if the big kid is successful, it makes the coach look good. Although, I am sure that the guy would perform better if the coaches were not so emotionally labile. In other words, he never knows when he is going to either be screamed at or pulled out of a game or patted on the back. This adds anxiety to the mix.

His new friend, the big league pitcher told him not to think....just throw....focus....

His high school coach, Coach T, who is still in the minors, told him to just throw....

The coaches told him to stop being so analytical.....

The sports psychologist said: "Throw!"

BP momma said: "oye!"

 

Tomorrow night is the big kick off the season dinner at one of the campus hotels. For $60.00 a person, we get to travel to campus and have a rubbery chicken dinner with cash bar (2 please) and listen to the coaches (whom I love, NOT!) pontificate about how great they are, what a good season they are going to have, and what a super cohesive group of guys they have the privilege of coaching. I can write the speech.

 

Yes, I am going and will be a nice mom and not open my mouth when I really want to 'school' the pitching coach. As Tink reminded me, "he does not want to meet Dr. BP Mom....." That's right Tink, when I pull out the doc credential, suddenly the person gets quiet and we make eye contact...and then....boom...Dr. BP momma has struck...like a snake bite....quick...lethal....

No? You don't believe it? Well, let me share with you one example of Dr. BP mom striking her victim without leaving any forensic evidence.....Fade to black.....

Six years ago, the big leftie was playing for a local league. His dad had coached him for a number of years, but when he entered the high school league at 14, dad bowed out. He knew that he was done with coaching AND he refused to wear the coach's baseball uniform. Too old to wear a costume....anyway.....

I was home packing the house to move and was not going to attend the game. Tink went with the boys and sat in the stands. The head coach saw dad with Tink and asked him to keep the 'book' of statistics in the dugout. Complying, dad went in.....

Now, here is where it gets nasty....as Tink watched the game, a few of the parents who were not fond of dad's coaching in the past, got salty and began to talk smack about him. Poor Tink was sitting in front of them as they said some incredibly mean things about her father. Beginning to cry, she left the stands, called me at home, and reported what had happened. I asked her if she wanted me to pick her up or if she was going to stay. "I'll stay....but I moved my seat...."

Moved her seat? Hmmmm...talking snarky about the kid's father in front of her...these are the people who sit in the stands, criticize the coaches, think that their sons are studs, and never volunteer to even bring a snack for the kids or pick up their trash.....who are they to do something like this, especially in front of Tink?

As I continued to pack, I ruminated about the incident and then reality hit me like a brick. Oh no, this will not work. No one has license to talk like that in front of a kid. If you think it, so be it. But to gossip and be nasty in front of the guy's daughter is not acceptable....And so, Dr. BP mom emerged....kind of like....the Incredible Hulk when he gets angry. He goes from mild mannered Bruce Banner into this greenish monster....that was me.....but in a controlled manner.



Getting out of the car at the field, the game was in the third inning.....I saw Tink and asked her to point out the perp...there he was....I made eye contact with the incredibly short and stout weasel....

"Excuse me....may I have a minute of your time? Out here...away from the stands......just you and me?"



Boom! The first salvo struck. The guy looked like he was going to vomit. He got down from the stands and walked toward me...almost like the Green Mile....death row....or perhaps the wood shed.
No physical abuse coming....just a discussion...mano y mana....yeah, you and me, pal....Time for you to talk smack in front of me.

I then carefully pointed out my daughter. I asked him if he knew that she was sitting in front of him while he made fun of her father....?No? "Oh, that's too bad. because she heard everything negative that you said about him. Did you know that you made her cry? ?No? well, you did. She is very upset right now. By the way, since you do not volunteer but have an opinion, it is not based on fact. The facts are.......The next time that you want to make fun of someone's volunteer father, please make sure that you do it in privacy and not in front a group of people."

"Thank you for listening to me. You can return to your seat. Is that a puddle around your feet? Wet your pants, you coward? Have a great day."

Then Tink and I left.

Yep, quick....eye contact....moving the lips only.....by the way, I was taller by three inches than this trouble making father. He looked up at me as I looked down at him. Am I proud of this moment? Hmmmm....yeah....I think so. Should I be? Um...maybe not proud, but it had to be done and I was the person to do it.

I could have left it alone, after all, I was not there to hear it. But when someone messes with one of my kids, the Hulk emerges. In a way, it is not like I was protecting only my kids but all the kids in the community. Face it, if you are a coach, you are going to be criticized by parents and players. It's the American way. They can say anything that they like, but they have to 'own' it. In other words, if you have a problem with a coach, go to them personally. Gossiping is just stupid.

Also, if you can do a better job...do it....Monday morning quarterbacking is always accurate, right? In reality, every time dad coached, he left work early. Our paycheck is based on his hourly billing. Therefore, if he does not work, he does not earn money. This was not an issue for him. It was more important to be there for his son and the other boys. Again, another fact, that the gossipers were unaware of....and so....I leave you with some advice.....

Pull out the beast only when necessary. As I said before, bullies, such as the little sunflower spitting, smack talking dad in the stands, are cowards. If he really did not like the way things were done, he should have privately spoken to the coach. I believe that this is called maturity. Most of these boys are wonderful young men now. They are lucky to have grown up so well, especially since they did not learn class or manners from their parents.

Later!

A for apology

Good morning! OK, the whole country knows it....it's cold...but it's actually much colder when you do not have heat. Yep, that's us. No heat....living in an ice box....I have to go into the car to warm up. We had to ship Diva out of the house while we were out today. Currently, she is with Tink at Uncle G's pad watching over a very sick Lil A.

What' up with the big kid...welll...its a never ending saga, isn't it? I started this blog to document the hard work and tough times that it takes to make it (or not, who knows). Anyway, I am so glad that I did .....'cause it ain't over....



Still smarting from his verbally abusive coach, the kid has continued his physical therapy and showed up at practice. Sheepishly, the coach approached him and asked him his arm was.

Then he gave a pseudo-apology saying that the leftie caught him at a bad time and he thought that he had been lying about his elbow. It seems that if a person blows out their elbow, it is not instantaneous but after a long period of time. The coach felt the kid had been hiding his pain from him. Again, this guy does not know my son at all. With that said, he gave a half-$3@^ sorry....and moved on.

The big kid accepted the apology...dad accepted the apology...ME? Not so much...actually not at all. Yes, I know that I have to turn the other cheek. I get it. BUT I might be able to forgive this one and the chaos that has ensued, but momma ain't gonna forget it. No way...no how..not now...not ever...I'll be sitting in my turbo powered wheel chair in my early 90's still remembering the verbal smackdown my son needlessly incurred at the hands of a tyrant.

 


While gumming my cold oatmeal, I will recall the day I ran to the campus to make sure nothing bad had happened to the elbow and the kid's psyche.

Let me tell ya', the lunch that I had with him made me want to cry. But, baseball mommas are not supposed to show emotion, so I kept the tears in that will someday come out like an erupting volcano....probably at the wrong time like during a major presentation in front of the Board of Trustees or the President of the United States. Who knows.

By the way, I received the 8 boxes of Girl Scout cookies yesterday and will not open them. One of my colleagues is selling them for her daughter...that makes the total 9 for the season so far and it just started. I am a former scout and cannot say no to these kids. They have a big spot in my heart as they incrementally take money out of my account for cookies that I do not need. Now, if they sold boxed wine, then I would be their biggest customer. Although rumor has it on the street that I bought the most cookies in the neighborhood. Do I get a badge for it?

Ok, I gotta work. I have  an interview this morning and have to prepare.

 


Take care...stay warm!

B is for bully

Hello! Here is my first evening post since I began this blog. Normally, I am either teaching or reading in the evening and do not have any desire to think (oh, that sounds bad....). Anyway, today definitely warrants a post by the end of the day.....why?

Well, it all began on Friday night when the big kid had a so-so outing. Rather than striking everyone out, he had a bit of a rough patch but was able to work his way out of it. Approaching the coach about the command issue, the 'coach' berated him and told him that he was not going to pitch for him if he tried to strike everyone out. I know that I covered this in a previous post, but there needs to be a set up for current events.....

The head coach asked him to make an appointment with him to chat for 45 minutes today. When the kid tried repeatedly to make the appointment, the coach would not return his texts. Great communication skills, right? As of this moment, the coach has still not responded to him.

On to today....as the kid was long tossing with his partner at 7 am ish, his arm went numb. Panicking, he followed protocol and went immediately to the pitching coach. Here is how the encounter went:

Player: "Coach, I have to tell you that my arm is sore and I cannot feel my left hand."

Coach, screaming: "You make me effin' sick to my stomach. You are an 'effin' spoiled person. Your 'effin' face makes me 'effin' ill. You are an 'effin' retard. Did you hear me? An 'effin' retard. You are an 'effin' head case....get the %$#*)) out of here. You're making me get 'effin' sick." This went on for several minutes.



As he finished his tirade, the big kid almost ran out of the office and out to his car where he called his father in tears. "Dad, you should have heard him......" This tirade is topped off with the kid's inability to make a fist. Talk about devastation.....talk about inappropriate behavior....talk about a person who I want to take my closed fist and shove it where the sun does not shine.....

OK, on to my call....it was just as pitiful and tearful as the one to dad and my heart broke for him. First, he has been climbing back from an injury and trying to regain his confidence. Then as he follows the team protocol, he is screamed at and humiliated. AS he spoke, I asked him if he wanted me to come to school to take care of the medical attention that he needed, but mostly, he needed someone to talk to who would understand his situation and not call him out for being 'effin' soft. I also encouraged him to see the psychologist which he promised that he would.

"Yeah, mom, please come...."

Before I left, I contacted my prayer warriors to send their prayers on his behalf to the Big Coach in the sky. After all, BP momma can only do so much and needed big time reinforcements. 

On to campus in a big hurry....equipped with a large cup of coffee, an apple, and banana, I hit the road with everything that I needed except my laptop. Why would I need that when I was going to speak with the kid? So, I left it on my desk which I would soon regret.
 


End of evening post......

Good morning. The sun is not peeking through the clouds, but I know that it is there and will return to warm us some day....

Tuesday morning: back to my story.....

I hit the turnpike as fast as I could for a number of reasons. First, the big guy needed a shoulder to lean on....Second, because I had two cups of coffee at this point and not only was my mind racing but so was the accelerator of the car..... On to the mountains to make sense of what had happened.

 
In the three hours that I was on the road, I realized several important facts....1. I can make it three hours after drinking two cups of coffee without stopping at a road stop. 2. I did not have any money in my wallet. Oh, perhaps I had a few quarters, but none for tolls. Thank goodness for the EZ pass,  otherwise, I would have been trying to explain it to the authorities. 3. Whoever invented satellite radio is a genius, 'cause I had a multitude of venues to listen to as my mood swung from doubt and despair (Catholic channel) to determination to help (Sixties on 6....) to the need to laugh (Comedy channel)....A genius, I tell you.....As I drove up the mountain, I heard Sam and Dave's famous song: "Hold on, I'm coming...." Yeah, hold on, kiddo....BP mom is coming and has a plan or five. An idiot coach will be going down in flames and will thusly need the Catholic channel....'cause I was on a mission.

As I got closer to the campus, I got my 90th phone call. "Uh, mom, I have to meet with the trainer at noon...then I have to go to class...can I meet you around three?"

Three? Dude, it's noon and I don't have my laptop....what do I do in the snow for three hours? What indeed?

Not a problem...so I hit the library and got work done in the computer lab. While there, I checked out the student body....they had the hoodies, cell phones attached to their ears, boots, and looked miserable. Dang, I do not miss those days as I saw the misery etched on their faces...another project...another paper...another quiz...another test...when do I get to party?

Back to the kid.....after his class, we met in the library. I have to give him credit. He did not skip class even though he was devastated by his injury. We hugged and walked to my incredibly dirty car. As I drove, he began to re-hash the story of his hand going numb, sore elbow, and arm tightness. BP mom's diagnosis: pinched nerve....due to unnecessary pressure and stress.

As we chatted, he shared more of what was going on....my question was 'does the coach talk to all of the players like this or just injured ones?'

"just me...." Are you a bit paranoid? "No, the other guys commented on it..."

As we sat at a steak place (I acquiesced to the need for some primal protein), he continued to unload and as we talked more, I could see that he was relaxing perhaps for the first time in a long time.

"I am plotting my revenge." "Whoa, dude, you have to work with him. He is the key to you getting into games. You need him as much as he needs you. Be very very careful with this plan."

Then I asked him: "Are you going to have a conversation with him?" He replied: "No, never again. He will have to approach me. He is dead to me." Nice...dead....but this dead guy has to fill out the roster before he is embalmed for each game so, again, you have to work with him.

Another annoying tidbit was that the head coach had asked him to make an appointment for yesterday and the coach never returned his texts. WTH? This compounded his anxiety.

My next question, or comment actually was: "Perhaps all college coaches are like this..." "No, mom, they are not."

Let's go back to the beginning....he has been the model athlete...first to stadium...last to leave....works out like a fiend...studies the game...is an honor student (yes, he figured it out!)...does not make waves...is an all around good guy. Yet, he is the brunt of the pitching coach's venom. Honestly, he has been a very easy kid to raise, so what's the deal?

I continued:" Remember high school? The coach had no idea how to deal with you either. However, you were able to break through. You are on the cusp and it will happen." As we chatted about high school, he recalled the days when his coach would humiliate him when he would throw a ball. He was fearful of walking someone knowing he would be pulled out of the game and cursed at. Ahhh....baseball.....

Now comes the fascinating part...."Dude, remember how I preached taking care of the body, mind, and spirit? Well, I did that, because with all good times comes tough times and the whole person can handle whatever is thrown at them. I was not just trying to get you to church each week, I wanted you to be in tune with each area of your life as you need to dig deep and get out of holes."

Uh-huh...but it was at this point that I could see that the light went on and he understood what I was saying.

Back to the "R" word....R=revenge....

"I am plotting my revenge." Sigh.....

"I am NOT coming back here for a 5th year I am going to a school closer to home so that I can be close to my PT and doctors. I am also going to live at home (yikes!) and save money. Even if they beg me, I am not coming back here. When I make it, I will not acknowledge him."

Is this statement coming from hurt or a truly great plan? After all, a few of the universities in the area recruited him. One coach said to him: "When you are ready to leave this school, come back to me." How did this coach know that the kid was going to want to jump ship? How indeed?

The last part of the conversation before I left him to his accounting tutor, was my final analysis of what had happened. Here is BP mom's take on it:

The big leftie is a good kid who follows the rules. He was late last week for the first time in four years and reported it to the head coach who reamed him out. He then had to pay for it with extra running and weights. He 'owned' what he had done, despite the other players who come either drunk or hung over and often late. They never have to do extra work outs. Only my kid....

When he hurt his arm yesterday, it was due to muscular tension. As an elite athlete, his muscles are tight and perhaps he did not stretch enough. The feeling was coming back into his hand, so the trainer's therapy, ibuprophen and prayers were working. The coach threw a fit. Why?

It had nothing to do with the kid and everything to do with the kid. By that I mean, the coach saw his meal ticket injured and rather be concerned what it meant for the player, he saw what it meant for him. In other words, he only thought of himself and therefore, reacted like a twelve year old. As a narcissist, this coach could only see that he was down a guy rather than seeing how he could help him to regain feeling in his arm. As he screamed and shouted, he reverted to a two year old whose favorite Tonka truck was broken and his momma would not buy him a new one. This is a man who is not a man but a bully.

What is a bully? Well, a bully is someone who makes himself feel better by belittling and picking on a person who cannot fight back. In this case, Buddy could not fight back because he needed to be on the team to achieve his dream. So, he was powerless to do anything. A bully....

Now, as I left campus, I knew that my job was done. I did not have to bring him home to see his PT or surgeon because this time the trainers can  handle it. I was also able to feed the kid and talk him off the ledge. Was he happy when I left? Nope....but he knew that if he was in a foxhole, the best person to be next to him was his momma and family. We are all supporting him.

Driving down the mountain, I knew that I needed to stop to make it home in one piece.....stopping for gas, I was feeling the need for Skittles...yep...Skittles.....browsing the shelves in the gas station, I stopped immediately at the oh-so-healthy Snickers bars. After all, they have the peanut protein and chocolatey nougat, and enough sugar to make it to my destination. All in all, it was the best Snickers bar I ever ate. Sheesh...it's the little things, you know....by the way, I had to dig into the bottom f my purse to pull out 1.39$ in change.



Upon arriving at home, all dad could rant about was that he will see that once the big kid is safe from retribution, he will contact the coach and share with him the letter that he is going to send the Board of Trustees, Athletic Director, and President of the university. It will mention point by point the treatment that he has incurred at the hands of their highly paid coaches. Hopefully, this coach has leased his home rather than paid for it. If dad gets his way, he won't be able to get a job coaching little league.



With that very lengthy post completed, there are a number of things that I have forgotten, but the kid has not. He has documented every word in his journal and will specifically use this incident as fuel to achieve his goals. Hang in there dude. I will always be there for you no matter what....By the way, the best revenge is to live well....start living and enjoy the journey. There will always be bullies and idiots out there. Show them that they cannot defeat you. You are stronger than they are.....And so...carry on....(see video below)....

Got to run and work....

Peace.

Time for a meeting.....yikes

More snow! Really? Who ticked off Mother Nature? Thinking warm....Caribbean...ocean...adult cocktail....

Oh well. We live the in the northeast and this is the way it goes. We are also blessed with beautiful spring flowers, summers at the beach, and falls with trees and leaf colors that paint a portrait of a landscape that no man or woman could have ever created.

With that said, the baseball team has been practicing inside for the past week. In fact, there are three weeks left to the opening pitch and the guys need a bit more work. How is my big guy doing? Wellll.....

He called yesterday to report on the Friday night scrimmage that ended at 1 am. I am actually glad that he did not call at 1:10 am to report in. I give him kudos for that decision.

Anyway, he pitched three innings. The good news is that he hit 89-91 mph with the fast ball. He struck out three batters. No runs were scored. The bad news is that he walked five guys over the three innings yet got out of the jam. Needless to say, the coach was not pleased. When he approached the coach for assistance, the coach relied: "If you do not pitch for contact rather than trying to strike everyone out, you will never pitch for me...."

Now that is coach-worthy....and guess what? It made the blog and will eventually make the book when I finally write it after the kid graduates.

Pitching for contact is noteworthy. However, I am sure that he was not trying to walk the batters. In fact, I am sure of it. Further, he continues to have some command struggles, yet the bright side is that he got out of the effects of the walks with no one scoring. In addition, what the coach said was not helpful, rather it made him question himself further leading to anxiety and sleepless nights. Nice.

It gets better. The coaches want to meet with him on Monday for 45 minutes. They did not say why. Therefore, he is having more anxiety because he thinks that he is a screw up, head case, and may be cut from the team. Really? Cut???

OK, here is my take on it. Everyone wants perfection. They did not get it. His bullpens are flawless, therefore his outings during an actual game should be flawless. Yet, we are all human and  make mistakes. Shall I talk about days on the tennis courts? No? Well, I am going to.....

Fade to black.....

During practices, I could hit a ball with blazing speed and accuracy; yet during matches, I would freeze a bit because I did not want to make a mistake. One coach said to me: "You are playing not to lose." OK, he's right. No one likes to lose. After all, I don't play necessarily for my health (kidding....). But I do like to win like everyone else. However, most coaches see when players are playing down to the level of their competition rather than rising to the occasion to dominate them. I get it so I understand what the coaches are saying....but not to tell him the reason for the meeting is cruel.

Therefore, for three days he is thinking about what the meeting is about and cannot relax. Actually, the same thing happened to me when my boss emailed me and said to meet me in her office. She did not give a reason, so my mind was going a million miles an hour...what did I do wrong? What did I do right? Why me? What is going on? This cannot be good. When I got the the office, I sat down and she asked me to work on a project for the university and not teach one of my summer courses. "Heck, yeah!" And so, the hours that I spent in my head thinking that I was in trouble were worthless and unnecessary. Therefore, I can see what the kid is going through.

Now comes my mantra...take care of the body, mind, and spirit, because a person never knows when mountains of anxiety are going to hit yet if you are in tune with your spiritual side, all of the negativity is placed in the rightful place in your head. Hmmm...BP mom, you could be correct....Huh!? I know I am right...mark my words.

Ok, let's see how tomorrow's meeting goes....will let him vent later when he is up and ready to talk. Until then, I gotta take care of my body and head to Zumba class. After all, I think I got the mind and spirit in order...although they certainly can be worked on.....like a muscle...keep working on them and they will grow and mature....Namaste!

Time to dance!
Enjoy the day!

Mind, body, spirit

Good morning! Another post this week means that I have a bit of free time. What is free time? Actually, I am not sure but I will tell you what...I am not as grouchy as I was last week when I met the kids outside with my hair standing on its ends. Traumatizing the girl scouts and their brother is nothing to be proud of.

With the snow this week, I have had time to relax and read a few books that were not related to my profession. I believe that this is called recreational reading. As such, it is quite nice. Sitting back on the sofa or easy chair with my electronic tablet, I have access to any electronic book on the market. With a few library cards, I can take electronic books out of the library and never leave my house. I have decided this is the way to go, because I do not want the  book that I read hanging out at the house collecting dust. As someone who is allergic to dust, I try to minimize it as much as possible. After all, breathing is not over rated.


I heard from the big kid yesterday who was gleeful that the team was implementing some of the exercises the Pitching Doctor taught him. "I knew it. They finally came around..."

Nice. I am happy to hear that the money that I spent for him to learn and train in Texas could have saved and learned at the university. But hey, all is well since he is ahead of the curve. What's a few bucks here and there?

As we chatted about school and the course that he loathes, accounting, I asked him if he was taking care of himself. "Yeah. I am eating and working out. I keep studying, so I am cool. I start at 5:30 am and go to bed at 11 p. All is good...."

All is good...uh huh. Let me ask you. Are you taking care of your mind, body, and spirit? After all, we are more than the sum of our parts. In order to be whole people, the spirit is just as important as the body and mind. My philosophy is that a person should strengthen themselves for the unexpected. In  other words, more can happen to us in a given day that we cannot even conceive in our minds. Therefore, caring for yourself in a holistic manner allows a person to tackle changes and problems head on when they arise.

Click.

Yep, every time I mention caring for the spirit, I hear the click on the other line. Or he signs off with "I gotta go and study."



Uh huh. Go ahead dude. Avoid the conversation, but let me tell you, unless you are prepared, there will be events that arise in the next few months that will test you. During that test, you will be calling upon a Higher Power to assist you. Maintain a relationship now during the good times to assure assistance during the not-so-good times. Just sayin'....

Ok, enough pontificating. I already see readers' eyes glaze over. It is time for me to shower and face the day. Tink and I are taking BP Grandmom and Grandpop to the movies. Pop turned 87 last Friday and I wanted to take him out to celebrate. They are not eager to see some of the movies with lots of *&%$$ cussing, so we are going to see Saving Mr. Banks. I did not know Walt Disney, but he seemed like he was a nice guy and  did not routinely drop the "F" bomb or his pants on screen as he wooed Mary Poppins or Snow White. So, this is probably safe for my favorite senior citizens to see.

Have a great day!

Honesty

Snow day!!! This is number two and I could not be happier....actually, I could be....you see...

The $@!@4^^** snow blower is still broken. As dad says a number of times each day: "I can fix it."

 




Yeah, when are you going to fix it, Buster? June? Until then, it collects dust and not snow flakes. Poor Diva....she is really the one suffering through the weather. I can see it on her face as she peeks out the window, lifts her paw to her forehead and murmurs "SNOW! NOOOOOO!" Sorry, Diva, I have no control over the weather. Actually, I have no control over anything when I think about it.






The big kid checked in last night. He had another bullpen yesterday afternoon and made the statement that it is amazing how good their pitching staff has gotten since they actually had a coach who knew something about it. Accordingly, he had a good session and is pumped for the season. I believe that there are 26 days before the opening pitch. Now I have to get ready.


As regular readers know, I purchase a pair of lucky sneakers before the start of the season. The style and make do not matter. The sneakers have to 'speak' to me and share that they are lucky. Although, last year I did not purchase the lucky sneakers and he had a rotten season. I don't think that it was due to my sneakers but the fact that he was coming back from surgery.
 


Since the first pitch will be thrown in North Carolina on Valentine's Day, I probably will not be wearing lucky sneakers but lucky socks with my boots. I am not dissing NC weather but it is not warm in February. Hence, I am not sure why the team starts the season there rather than toasty Florida. Speaking of which, we are trying to score decent air fare to Tampa for President's weekend. I can drive to North Carolina but a trip down I 95 from the northeast to Florida is not written in my book as something that I want to do. Yet, if I must...I will.

After all, this could be his last season....or not...who knows. Therefore, I want to be there to support the kid with his highs and lows...ups and downs...ying and yang....yo and yo..... BPM will be there in the stands listening to the post game report and share with him perceptions of the game. The questions that will be answered include the following:

"Yes, the shortstop could have gotten that ball."

"No, the pitch was definitely over the plate."

"Yes, you looked like you were int the zone."

"Nope, you did not have your stuff today."

"No, the umpire does not need glasses."

"You win games when the team actually hits the ball and score runs."

I actually have more platitudes in my repertoire, but the key is not to be dishonest yet see the positives. I will never lie to him and tell him that he was great when he was not. What does that do for him? Gives him a false sense of what he needs to do to fix what seems to be awry.  By telling him how perfect he is, I am doing a disservice. He has talent but inflating his ego beyond where it is is not helpful but hurtful.



A mom has to be the voice of reason but offer a critique by not judging and being honest mixed with a dose of love and compassion. Remembering the meltdown days of his youth has taught me a few things. First, there will be good days on the mound such as when he struck out 16 players but lost the game due to errors. Second, there will be horrible days on the mound such as when he pitched during the play offs and the other team scored 10 runs before the first out was made. Ouch...that hurt me too. It was a nasty game....Lastly, there will be times when he thinks that he can be 'the guy' and is not called upon to be that guy. However, he has to have confidence and a bit of bravado....you know...swagger...If he does not feel that he can be the guy, he should not be in this business. He has to know (not feel) that he will strike out every batter he faces. Call it confidence. Call it crazy. Call it sports.


With that said, I have to put on the thick socks, ski pants, hat, gloves, and minus 20 degree coat and start to create a place for Diva to relieve herself. Ah, the joys of a snow day....hope that you enjoy your day!