An Ode to Baseball

My good friend Harri3tspy has inspired me again. She has also warmed the cockles of my heart by singing the praises of Wayne and Shuster, may they rest in peace, whose black and white television broadcasts can still be seen on vintage cable and/or satellite stations. One of their most memorable skits is a reworking of Shakespeare�s Julius Ceasar, where the unfortunate Ceasear�s widow is telling the detective in a Brooklyn accent, �I said to him, Julie, don�t go!�

But that is not what this is about. The summer that Buddy Boy was 11, he was determined to play baseball. Actually, he wanted to do it the summer before, but we arrived home from Greece too late to sign up with the little league. We took him to practices, went to all the games, rooted for our kid and the others, and got right into the mentality of sports parents. At games I would sing in my best operatic style,�Run!� in a descending glissando as the little guys dashed for first (or second, or whatever). For us it was the summer from hell. We are not big on sports, at least organized team sports, at our house, and it was quite the time commitment to go to all the games. The benches were excruciatingly hard, and the other parents were all francophones with whom we had absolutely nothing in common. That same summer Hubby also broke his foot, and it was uncomfortable for him to get around, to say the least.

The worst part, though, was that Buddy Boy discovered he really didn�t like baseball. He couldn�t hit worth shit, couldn�t throw at all, and was put out in left or right field the whole summer. The one time a ball actually came his way he missed it, and blamed the one loss his team had on his mistake. That was their only loss during the regular season, which put them at the top. Unfortunately, they also lost their championship game, so did not get the big trophy. Buddy Boy was really disappointed about that too. When asked if he wanted to play again the following summer, he declined. Because of lack of interest, the little league itself folded. We do not blame ourselves.

Buddy Boy tried basketball in grade 7, and found that he really isn�t a team player. He prefers solitary or one-on-one sports, like karate and tennis, activities where other people aren�t counting on him. I guess it comes from having musician parents and having to learn an instrument at an early age where practising by oneself was de rigueur. I hope once he starts making music in ensembles his team spirit improves.

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