Family Time -- Steve Smith

Dear Dad,

When you first talked to me about playing baseball, you told me that

it was going to be fun, just like when you were a kid. I even remember

you saying that back then, kids didn’t get snacks after a game like we do

now. That’s just weird -- I can’t even imagine playing baseball without

snacks after a game.

But Dad, the season is half over, and the only fun I’m having is

munching out on the snacks. The rest of the time, you and everyone else

seem to be yelling at me.

“Move up!” “Step back!” “Throw the ball this way!” “Throw the ball

that way!” “Run faster!” “Slow down!” “Tuck your shirt in!” “Sit

down!” “Stand up!”

Besides you, there are the other parents, the coaches and the whole

other team looking at me. And you all seem to be different people when

you get around the diamond.

Dad, I know that you’re really busy all the time and that you work

hard to make a nice home for us and have a lot of pressure, but I have

pressure too. And so I just want to ask you to do a few things, if it’s

OK.

First, Dad, could you stop telling me what to do on the diamond? I

mean, it’s OK if you want to let me know something once in a while, but I

get embarrassed when you think you have to tell me much more. It makes me

feel like my friends think I don’t know how to play.

Dad, if I mess up, I know it. I also know what I should have done to

avoid the mistake, but sometimes my brain wants to do something and my

body just doesn’t cooperate. So when you tell me in front of everyone, I

feel really bad, like kind of stupid, do you know what I mean? Sometimes,

I even think that if I mess up, you won’t love me as much.

Once, I hit the ball into center field and ran like crazy. I didn’t

watch the ball, only my coaches, just like you told me, and I made it

safely to second base. Then the other team overthrew the ball, and I made

it to third. And when they overthrew the ball to third, I ran home and

scored a run. All in one play! I was exhausted, but I was so proud! I ran

just the way you told me and got all the way around the diamond.

I know it wasn’t a real, real home run but I made it all the way

around the bases on my hit, and to me it was.

But when I got back in the dugout, all you could think of to tell me

was that if I had hit the ball a little differently, I would have hit it

over the fence.

And then when I was pitching and having a really good day because I

had just struck out three batters in a row, you were still telling me how

to pitch better.

The other thing is, Dad, I wonder, if it’s not too much trouble, could

you please play catch with me sometimes? I mean, I know you’re busy and

everything, but I think it would be fun just to spend 15 or 20 minutes together to talk and play catch without anyone having to win something.

Just for fun, like it used to be for you. That’s probably going to be a

better time for you to tell me how to catch and throw better, too,

instead of in the middle of a game.

Oh, and please stop talking to me when I’m at the plate trying to hit

the ball. I already have so much to think about and be nervous about, and

when people try to tell me how to hit when I’m up there I can’t

concentrate.

Besides, Dad, some of the stuff you tell me is just the opposite of

what the coaches are telling me to do in practice. So I’d really like it

if maybe you could practice hitting with me when we’re not in a game.

That way, I’d only have to listen to you.

And please don’t yell at the umpire like you tell me not to. I just

wish you could see how mean you look when you do.

I may never be the athlete you were, or wish you would have been, and

I hope that’s OK with you. That also means that I probably won’t grow up

to get a college scholarship or play in the pros.

Dad, there’s just one more thing and I know it’s going to sound

stupid, but I just want to remind you of something really quick because I

know you’re busy.

Dad, I’m only 9 years old.

Love,

Your son

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer. Readers

may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at (949) 642-6086.