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The Worst Mother at Little League

batting practice in the house

I didn’t play softball as a child. I’m not even sure that Manhattan Beach had softball but I think that when we were tiny some of the girls played Little League. If you didn’t play soccer and volleyball you didn’t have a social life so I’m pretty sure those girls didn’t last long and joined us at the beach or on the fields.

I like baseball. I love going to a Dodgers game though I much prefer the cleanliness of Angels Stadium. This should surprise no one who knows me well.

My son plays Little League. I bring him to practice and check out everyone else’s pants. This year they are grey so I can’t compare laundry skills as well as I could when the pants were white. I decide who is good at laundry and that’s pretty much where the competition ends for me.

This afternoon (evening maybe? The games last until 7pm) I was watching Alexander play and listening to Howard Stern on Sirius when Mr. G called. He wanted to know how the game was going. I explained to him that Alexander had only one play in the field and it was at first base where he dropped the ball. Mr. G went back to work and was probably a little bummed about his son not playing great ball. I just clapped when the other moms clapped, turned in my raffle tickets and tried to catch the last rays of sun. I managed to catch up with a friend at the snack bar (and really they shouldn’t call that shack a bar unless they’re willing to put some booze in it) and marvel at her kids who are tall and beautiful and in my mind will always be one year olds in diapers.

So after the game I drove the kids home and talked to Alexander about the game. He was like, “They didn’t win that game, we lost it.” So I tentatively brought up the missed ball at first base which was when I got a chorus of “Mo-om, you’re the worst baseball mom EVER.”

Apparently the kid who dropped the ball at first base wasn’t my son. He was some other kid (kudos on the laundry mom… I totally thought those were the grey pants I got very clean) and in addition to being not-my-son the ball wasn’t missed so much as it was thrown wrong. So you see I know nothingWhich is actually preferable to him having screwed up a play that may or may not have existed.

But I do know for a fact that he was walked once and hit it to second base another time and if there was a third at bat I might have missed it because I was chatting with the mom at the snack not-a-bar.

Worst baseball mom ever. But the uniform is absolutely glistening clean. So I win.

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