My Mama Told Me...

You'd better shop around!
Audrea played in the same summer rec league for about three years, maybe four. We had coaches that didn't know what they were doing and umpires who knew even less. We had girls who were late to practice, that is if they showed, and girls who thought they were too good to drill...and because we were a rec league, we really had no recourse as coaches according to the pretty much non-existent board of directors. But we stayed because we didn't know any better and as long as I was able to coach, at least I could control her playing experience a little bit.
Then came the year my youngest, Olivia, was finally old enough to play tee-ball. Audrea had moved up to the 16 & Unders and although I knew it would be a challenge, I enlisted the help of my sister, and signed up to coach both girls.
Funny thing is, I never got the call from the league for the 16 & Under team. The tee-ball commissioner called and gave me my info, but nothing from the other age group. So at the coaches meeting, I asked if I had been over-looked somehow.
I was told, "No. We have all the coaches we need for that age group." Wow.
"OK," I said, "She's on the border, so what if I keep her down a bracket?"
"No, I think we're good there too. We don't need any help." OH MY.
At that point, the coach for Audrea's travel team walked by, over-heard the conversation and shook his head. He leaned over and said, "She's beyond this league anyway. Don't have her do both, this league will hold her back. She's playing for me and that's good enough."
So, I told the commissioner to remove Audrea's name from the player list. We were done. The only reason I allowed my little one to play out the season is because it was too late to sign up in any other league.

~*~*~HOLD UP....WHERE'S MY SOAP BOX?~*~*~

That happened to be the same year I was working in middle school, volunteering with middle schoolers at my church, and by this time, had coached middle schoolers for a few years...needless to say I'd been around them enough to know that they need all of the positive influence and guidance they can get. There is no way this league had "enough" people to fill all of the spots needed for middle schoolers. Give me a freakin' break. I'm not that stupid!

So there were a couple of complaints/incidences my last year coaching Audrea. They were silly mix ups. See we have 4 middle schools in our tiny town. I worked at Middle School "A" and Audrea played for them, the summer league practiced at Middle School "B", and one day a girl whose father I knew showed up at practice in her PE shorts from Middle School "C". So I jokingly told her she couldn't wear those shorts to practice. The father was standing there and laughed but that didn't stop the comment from getting back to me at work and to the board as a complaint. Then when my daughter and some of her friends showed up for games having not changed out of their uniforms from Middle School "A" yet, I was told they were intentionally intimidating the other teams. Again...Give me a freakin' break! Stupid people make stupid comments which lead to stupid decisions and game playing and yes I am speaking to the Board of that league.

~*~*~*SOAP BOX GONE*~*~*~

The next year, Olivia played for the local baseball league. Not much better organized, but at least we got a parade at the beginning of the season. Oh wait, this isn't a beauty pageant! NEXT!!!

I should mention, it was somewhere in our decision to leave the local summer "rec" league that I earned the title "Stage Mom of Sports." I was lovingly told that I am like a stage mom, because I am always jockeying around behind the scenes trying to get my girls in the spot light. Personally I think I just do what I need to do to ensure the most positive playing experience.

That brings us to the league my little one currently plays with, it's an official Little League club. Little League as in The Little League World Series on ESPN; Little League as in The Little League Hall of Fame in South Williamsport, Penn.; Little League as in founded in 1938. Yeah, that Little League!

So I heard about it through a friend whose brother in law is on the board for the baseball division and who had told her they were starting a softball division. Do you remember those Mervyn's commercials? The ones with the woman standing at the window waiting for the store to open with all it's great prices? The one where she says, "Open, Open, Open."? How about this? Have you ever seen a dog learning how to jump to fetch a treat from his master's hand? He's so excited he usually pees himself before he can jump. Cross those two and you have me when I heard about a BRAND NEW SOFTBALL LEAGUE starting up...and one that is a division of Little League no less!!! To say I was excited and eager would be understatements!

So that's where we are today, about half way through our first season with Little League Softball, the only Softball division of Little League for hours, and we are loving it! Yes there are a lot of rules to follow and "I"s to dot and "T"s to cross, but it's supportive, competitive, the umps know their stuff (despite their very young ages), the board members are readily available to help, and most importantly, the girls are having fun and learning to love the game.

We were told today that if this league is to move forward they will need people to step up and help on the Board. I could hardly wait to get home and sign up!

There's no Crying in Baseball...or Softball for that matter!

During Audrea's second or third year of summer league softball, she had one of those defining moments that a mother and her child never forget. I was coaching the team, made up of her and two of her best friends, along with a handful of other girls. We were having a decent season and the girls were getting to the point where they could definately make some progress. They were at the age that starts to separate the serious athletes from the weekend players. Audrea wanted to be a serious athlete.
To that effect, she had been working hard on her batting all spring and summer long and had seen limited success. She got up to bat and of course, the bases were loaded. I was coaching First Base and her best friend's mom was coaching Third. I don't even remember where the ball was hit to and really, that's not the point here. She took First with a vengence, rounded Second, and headed to Third. Christy, the third base coach, told her to stop on Third, but she wanted that Grand Slam. She wanted to make the serious athlete status. She was within 5 feet of the plate when the ball came flying in from the Shortstop. She saw it in her periphial vision and afraid to slide, she was tagged out at home.
OH NO! She came storming into the dug-out, pushing the teammates that had come out to congratulate her, threw her helmet down and tried to sit in the deepest corner.
"OUT!," I yelled, "Don't you dare come in here with that attitude. Go for a walk and cool off."
She looked up at me shocked.
"But Mom! I almost had the Grand Slam!," she cried.
"I don't care. You lost it because you didn't slide. That isn't my problem and I don't have time for your attitude. Get out and come back when you can control your temper."
She stormed out and was on the neighboring field when our team headed back out to the field.

FAST FORWARD 8 YEARS...

My little one, Olivia, has finally, in her third season, started to show some instict for the game. We've started league shopping and this year we've ended up in a neighboring town which has just recreated a Little League Softball organization. (More on the league shopping later). I am once again coaching along with two other adults and now Audrea is to the point where she has the ability to be a base coach.

Olivia has been practicing her batting daily and is finally starting to really keep her eye the ball during her swing. And so, with runners on third and second, she hits it out to left field. Her best hit to date! She too rounds first and heads to second where she slows down and looks to her sister for guidance. By the time, Audrea throws up her hands with the signal to run, Olivia has stopped completely at second. Not quite understanding whether her sisters wave means to "go" or "stay," she hesitates just a second or two. By the time, she realizes she is supposed to run, it's too late. The third baseman gets the ball and at about this time, Audrea starts to yell "Back! Back! Back!"

Although this is Olivia's third year playing, she is only 7 and doesn't even know the term "pickle" much less how to get out of one. So she runs right into the third baseman and is called out. All this time, the crowd had been cheering for her and when she was called out the crowd fell, as did her spirits and her big beautiful brown eyes. She jogged off the field and when she reached second, she looked up and me, slowed down to a walk and let the tears fall.

"Oh no, Baby! You did a great job! You had a great hit. Your best ever! I am so proud of you!"

It didn't matter. She was so upset. She slowly came off the field, tears falling and into my arms. I tried to tell her she had done a good job and that I was proud of her and none of that mattered. Lucky for me, her papa was close by and he took her and consoled her a bit. Next time the girls were on the field, I had a converstation with Audrea in the dug-out.

"Kinda like that time you lost your grand slam, huh kid?"

"Mom, we're not going to discuss that, ok?"

"My point is this, you learned how to slide after that, right? Think your sister will understand the signs now?"

"Yeah, Mom. I think she's got it now."

"Good. Lesson learned."

Her next turn at bat, Olivia hit a line drive right past the pitcher and through the second baseman. She got a single and 2 RBIs off that hit. That's my girl!
We won that game: 17-6. But it wasn't the score that mattered. What I realized later after all the equipment was packed up and put away was this: Olivia cried because Olivia cared. A few months ago, despite two previous years of playing, she couldn't swing the bat to save her life. Last week, she showed an abilty to hit and more important, she showed a heart for the game.

First base is THAT way!

Fast forward to fall of 2003, Audrea attempted once more to play soccer. By this time we were back in the Central Valley and although the ag business does wonders to feed our country and keep us all employed, it, along with the bowl effect of the valley, wrecks havoc on the lungs. By mid-season, she's wheezing and an inhaler follows shortly. Soccer is done. Much to the disappointment of her dad and 5 uncles. (No pressure there!)

Mid-winter of the same year, I see the ads for Softball sign ups in the newspaper. Little Miss Softball will be at the mall for the next two weeks signing up players for the spring! YES! This is it! We are home again and by now I really want her to play a sport I know something about! I picture my girl playing first base or shortstop, bright ugly jersey, knee-high socks and big green outfield fence in the background. I see her swinging the bat and reaching that fence redeeming me once and for all! Yes, this is my chance to live vicariously through my child! She's been dragging around a bat since the day she could walk and up to now we hadn't been stationary enough for her to play. She, however, is not so eager after the whole breathing thing in the fall. (Aw..suck it up!) She HAS to do it! We've talked softball and baseball for years. It's what we've been waiting for. So I thought. But, no-she's not havin' it. She'd had enough with the "family tradition" mess from soccer. She did not want to play softball, just because "that's what we do." AUGH. Time to bring out the BIG GUNS! The conversation went something like this:

"Honey, why don't you just play for one season?"
"No Mom."
"Play one season for me and if you hate it you don't ever have to play again ok?"
"Mom, I don't want to. Just 'cause you and your sister played. I can't breath when I'm out there!"
"Honey, you have an inhaler now! And I sat through three soccer seasons, remember? I think you can do one softball season for me."
"Fine! One season. Will you leave me alone if I agree to one season?"

And so started her softball career. Who ever said guilt doesn't work?

So off we went, new cleats, a new bat, batting gloves, an equipment bag...oh...what to do for a glove? Do we buy a brand new one? One that has never been played with? I know in my heart of hearts that she'll just fall in love with the game and play forever and ever and therefore, she should have a brand new glove. I also know that a brand new glove is lousy to play with and takes at least one whole season to break in and since she's never played before is not a good idea. So humming "Take me out the the Ballgame," I dug around my parent's garage and found my first glove, dusted it off, wrote her name in permanent marker and she's ready for the all-stars!

If only the coach was...Now I have to premise this with saying anyone who volunteers their time to coach and mentor any group of kids deserves extra points in Heaven and I thought that long before I ever decided to coach. However, this coach barely knew first from third and really when you're trying to set your kid up for Softball Stardom, you want a coach that knows the game. So, seeing the frustration of the girls and parents alike, I offered to step in and "help." The problem is that I'm not very good at following. I can lead, but I can not follow, especially when I think I know more then my leader and in this case I did. So I worked with the girls as much as possible and by mid-season, the coach politely told me she'd take it from there and that my help was no longer needed. (OUCH!) By the end of the season, Audrea was very confused and frustrated and horror of horrors, thinking she never wanted to play again!!!
It was at that point that I decided I would coach my daughters' softball teams from here on out. I understand that I don't know everything about the game, but I do know where first and third are and more important, I know my limits in coaching and I am not afraid to ask for and accept help. With that promise made, I was able to convince her to try again the next spring. Whew.

Twist, tumble and kick

The first time Audrea played a team sport she was in kindergarten and my employers sponsored a soccer team. That's about all I remember. Oh and the jersey's were sky blue. Audrea has 5 uncles on her dad's side and they all played soccer through-out school. I believe a couple were still in school when she played on her first team so they couldn't always come out and watch her or work with her. So she played what I now know is referred to as "bunch ball." All of the 5 and 6 year olds run in a mob after the ball and stick their feet out in hopes of kicking it once in a while. If anyone scores a goal during this sixty minutes of field jogging, parents on both sides cheer like crazy. No positions are held, trying to teach them at this point is a waste of time and effort. There is no goalie in the off chance someone should actually come close enough to score a goal we wouldn't want to crush their delicate self-esteem by blocking their attempts. (Plus the goalies tend to lose interest quickly and hence increase the chance of serious injury should the ball make it to their end of the field.) Again...the season was pretty forgettable.
Soon after, Audrea and I moved to the Bay Area...Aaahhh...Big City = Many Choices! I was so excited at the thought of all of the choices my daughter and I would have not just with sports, but with schools, restaurants, shopping, weekend events, etc. What I didn't take into account is the cost of all of these lovely opportunities, but more on that later.
Audrea decided she wanted to try gymnastics. Great! A sport I know nothing about! So I did some research and found a gym that offered a Saturday morning class in an old historic theater not too far from our subletted home. It was spacious and beautiful and cool that we were taking classes in such a historic building. We figured we were about to make some history ourselves after all! We woke up that first day so excited to go to class. We arrived early and watched the earlier class come to an end. We patiently explained the pronounciation of her name. (If I only had a dollar for everytime a coach called her Audrey or Andrea!) And I sat with all of those other early morning moms and dads and watched with baited breath as she tumbled her first somersault and tried unsuccessfully to turn her first cartwheel. That lasted about a month. Audrea wasn't much for getting up and out the door by 9 am on a Saturday. (She still isn't.) And since I was commuting to work in true Bay Area fashion, there was no way we could do a week night class. The hopes of Olympic stardom a la Mary Lou Retten were quickly forgotten.
The next fall, we decided to try soccer again. This time she brought home a flyer from school announcing sign ups for the Jack London Youth Soccer League. The league ran through out the East Bay and from what I could gather there were small branches of the league in most of East Bay communities, including ours. So we called for sign up and pricing information....After she splashed cold water on my face, I came to and explained the reason I had passed out. The cost was $75.00 a player and that didn't include the uniform or the manditory chocolate bar fund-raiser! Wow. Where was I going to find that kind of money? Single mom, living in the Bay, subletting a couple of rooms, commuting across the bridge every day, as it was we were eating Mac & Cheese and Fish Sticks far too often. Where was I going to find an extra $75?
Thank Goodness for birthdays! Audrea recieved about $50 that year in cold hard cash so I decided to ensure her commitment level was there, I had her contribute $40 to the cause.
It worked. The year was 2001 and despite her dad coaching her, I still don't remember much about her actual play on the field. What I do remember and what will always stay engrained in my head was that game we played on the morning of Saturday, September 15th. Our playing field was about one mile north of the Oakland International Airport. We had cancelled that Tuesday's practice after the kids had been sent home from school early. Even though we figured these 1st and 2nd graders were too young to really understand the impact of what had happened, we adults were all well aware of the close proximity of three international airports and thus high risk area we lived and played in.
Needless to say, when the first north-bound commercial plane flew over our little soccer field with our little 6 and 7 year olds, the players, coaches, referrees and parents and I swear even the ball froze, looked up and watched it fly out holding our collective breath. It was like one of those scenes from a movie where it all moves in slow motion and all we heard was the noise of the planes engines flying overhead. And just like that, it was gone and life on the soccer field returned and the season went on despite the horrors of what had happened on the East Coast just a few days earlier. It was as if by playing that game, we were showing the terrorists that they couldn't stop us. We all won that day.

Let's get it started...

I grew up in this little tiny ag town most of my life. Our summer temperatures reach the 100's during late June and stay there throughout most of July and August. Some of my fondest summer memories are of playing Little Miss Softball every summer on the softball fields at Rivera Middle School. Rivera has between 6 and 8 softball and baseball fields and back then, the league had big time sponsors who would pay to have thier name painted on a big green plywood fence to mark the outfield. We would strive to hit the ball over that fence.
My dad sometimes coached, either alone or with my best friend's dad, Lou. I honestly can not remember whether we won or lost back then, but I do know we had a great time. As I got older, I moved from the "minors" (looking back I think that was late elementary school to early junior high) to the "majors" (late junior high to high school). When I moved up to the "majors" (by the way...I LOVED saying I played Major League Ball!), Dad stayed down in the Minors to coach my sister and I got a new coach.
Whether being coached by my dad or someone else, I loved the game. I may not have been the best player on the team, but I learned to appreciate the sound of the bat making contact with the ball, the smell of the fresh cut grass, the smooth moves of the safe sign being given by the blue and most important, I learned the value of a coach that knows his or her stuff.
Those summers out on the fields of Rivera laid the ground work for the parent and coach I have become today. I was speaking to a friend that has known me since back in those Little Miss days and updating her on my daughters' current teams and coaches and she laughingly, and I hope lovingly, said, "Susan, you know how you always hear about 'Stage Moms'? You are like a 'Stage Mom of Sports'! You are always jockying in the background to make sure your girls get the best experience possible."
And so the story begins...