Buy Me Some Peanuts and Crackerjacks

T-ball started today. To be honest, it is not a day I have looked forward to. I have dreaded our inevitable foray into organized sports, perhaps because I am not a sporty person myself or perhaps because I believe a lot of these sports are a bit too much too soon for young children.

But T-Ball seems a right of passage.

I don't know how it is in other communities, but the kick-off of the baseball season is no small matter in Cooperstown, and that is why I found myself standing this morning in Cooper Park, nestled snuggly beside the National Baseball Hall of Fame, waiting for the opening parade. Alex, as a T-Baller, had the privilege of riding a trolley to the opening ceremonies while the older players walked and waved to the proud parents and family members lining the streets.

We have stumbled on this small procession nearly every year - completely unintentionally - as we have run to the Farmers Market or the library on a Saturday morning. Alex has longed to join along... "In a few years," I said. "In two years." I said. "Next year," I said. And so it was fitting this morning that he awoke and announced that his dream was finally coming true.

We watched and waved and rushed to the fields. We sat patiently through the opening ceremony, the smell of hot dogs and concession-stand cheeseburgers filling the air.
Each team was introduced - from the T-ballers on up through the ranks. The volunteer parent coaches thanked. The man who mowed the field thanked. The villagers who donated money and time thanked. The Star Spangled Banner was sung, and I felt a catch in my throat as I looked across the field at my still tiny son standing still and tall, his hat across his heart.

I grew up in a small town. This is life in a small town. T-Ball is what it is all about - the community stepping up and reaching out - two dads who probably know as much about coaching baseball as I do - agreeing to coach this little team of kindergartners. Ten other parents coaching the other five teams. Yes, to teach them how to swing a bat and the order in which they should run the bases, but more importantly, how to put all their hands together in a circle and give a shout for their team, how to give a high-five to the opposing team at the end of the last inning and say, "good game," how to take off their caps and show their respect as the national anthem sounds across the field.

Small town life in like that. Many is the day I question what I am doing here in upstate New York. But answers come on days like today.

Today, the Cubs played the Nationals. We sat on the sidelines and cheered for every kid that was up to bat. The beauty of T-ball is that no one wins and no one loses. We laughed together as interest waned, as the outfielders swooped to pick flowers, as a runner decided to forego second base or as a bunt rolled past five children and turned into a home run. Some kids are good - the varsity team in training. Others are more interested in finding four leaf clovers in the field.

Alex announced at the end of the game that he is really more of a tennis (he played once two years ago) guy or a golf guy. But he was delighted when his dad brought home a new glove. So the verdict is still out on our future with baseball.

It makes no difference to me. Whether I am on a golf course, in a theater or sweating by the side of the pool, I will always be a fan. And I'll be happy to have this village to help my child along his way.