Sweet Summertime..

(J getting as close to the surf as possible here in Idaho)

I am competitive.

And, yet, I love to teach beginning skills in sports. And now that it is summer, baseball is underway. In all sports and in life, it comes down to the basics and if I can teach kids the right way... well, then I feel that I have done made a difference.

However, the other day when the ump told me that the last batter was my little Brea (name change), who has yet to hit the ball this season and is about the size of the bat- and the bases were loaded, I sorta felt sad.

The bases were loaded. And the batter after Brea could have surely brought them all home. Brea had shown up for the game and had asked if she could just 'skip' batting. I told her it wasn't an option, but I would help her.

Could hardly blame her- the first practice she'd been to she got nailed with the ball in the hand.

I don't even remember what I said to her, but I recall feeling that with each pitch, she seemed to be getting closer to hitting that ball. At one point I thought she might just get lucky and make contact.

And then it happened- the bat connected perfectly with the ball. She swung evenly and the hit went out somewhere near second base.

I screamed. It startled her and she dropped the bat and ran toward first. She made it safely! I couldn't believe it! All of the practices out in the crummy weather were worth it. And like that, I remembered why I do what I do: the look in a child's eye when they overcome fear and accomplish something hard.

Brea hitting the ball wasn't expected until the end of the season. It was a miracle to witness and I couldn't have been more proud of her- or my little team.