Monday, April 13, 2009

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.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

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.

Friday, April 10, 2009

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...