and so it begins

So I went and registered Luke for Little League last night.

Ugh. I mean, yay. The dad is excited and eagerly anticipates the triumphs and bonding and teachable moments. The dad also takes another step toward selfless middle aged man. He knows what's in store.

Driving. Fund raisers. Concession stand and pushy parents. Some kids hyper competitive, others out on Neptune, all learning the hard way how to protect their face from the ball. Plus, I half-committed to assistant coaching when I can be there.

We didn't sign Luke up last year because I asked him if he wanted to play and he said "no." Okay, good enough. That and the fact that we had another newborn in the mix. But this year he's been asking to play catch and to pitch to him and take him to GoWags. It all seriously cuts into my computer and/or bike jumping over the garbage can sessions.

We did have fun today. I pitched to him like we usually do, then had him run real bases in the yard, much to his enjoyment. Well, his favorite thing was using his spikes to reinforce mud spots beside home plate, then coming around to slide in them.

Skill work for todays lesson included not carrying the bat when running bases and sometimes stopping at, say, second base or so. So far he's well ahead of where I was at six, when nobody could convince me that baseball is not played in jeans. For whatever reason, I remember all of it: my first teammates and coaches and how the White Sox went from worst to first in ALL of Mt. Pleasant T-ball.

It's vivid. Good times. I try to imagine what Luke is going through, and I hope it goes that way for him. Except for the jeans.