Keeping Score

Holy Moly Motherhood

By Alana Smith 

I love baseball. I grew up playing front yard baseball with a gaggle of boys, using trees as bases and the neighbor’s property line as the "fence.” I was the only girl, so I had to keep up or they wouldn’t want me to play. Thankfully, I was taller than most of them, so they didn’t give me much grief. When my younger brother started real baseball, I spent every spring in the bleachers—getting sunburned, keeping the book, and cheering them on. So, I think I was made to be a baseball mom. 

But I think that baseball parents can get a bad rap. We all know someone who can be a little too competitive or over-the-top. Someone who seems to only care about the win. And then we hear a lot about how we are too hard on kids these days and how we should just lighten up and let everyone win. Why keep score if it’s all just for fun, right? 

But have you ever asked a nine-year-old? 

A kid who has been in the game since he was three?

A kid with Braves pennants all over his walls and game balls lining the shelf? 

A kid who loves the game so much that he does practice swings as he’s brushing his teeth? 

A kid who struggled to make the throw from third to first, but with direction, constructive criticism, and repetition can now beat the runner more times than not?

Have you asked them? What it feels like to work at something, excel at something, and love something? 

I wonder how they feel about not keeping score or not earning your position or the win? 

And as for the parents, I think their enthusiasm comes from so much history with the game. From watching your two-year-old swing a plastic bat to tee ball and playing in the dirt to the first real hit in coach pitch. Then, getting the first game ball, the first slide into second, the first in-the-park homer, the first double play, and their first time on the mound after dreaming of that strike-out for so long.

All those firsts came from failing, learning, and doing it better the next time. And when they do better, the team does better. And there’s really no feeling like being a part of something—a team. 

Here’s to all the parents out there driving to practice, pitching until dark in the front yard, spending hours in the bleachers, buying all the gear, and cheering your tails off for those kids. 

They thank you. And if you’re wondering, just ask ’em. 

xoxo,

Holy Moly Motherhood