A Little League mom’s proudest moment
One of the most stressful jobs is said to be that of a parent.
When their kids play sports it gets three times more
nerve-racking.
A Little League mom’s proudest moment
One of the most stressful jobs is said to be that of a parent. When their kids play sports it gets three times more nerve-racking.
I grew up playing Little League, starting when I was 5 years old and continuing until I was 16.
My mom was there for all 11 years, watching game after game. The playoffs and all-star games were always the most hectic games because those meant the most.
But, then again, every game is important at that age, so I guess she was pretty anxious through 11 seasons of ball.
The thing that all Little League parents dread the most is an injury to their child. My mother was one of those that tried not to think about an injury, but in the back of her mind it was always something she feared.
Every kid’s worst nightmare is getting hurt during a game and having their mother run out onto the field to see if they are ok, but a parents’ first instinct is to do so. Many parents fight that impulse and many lose, but my mother was not one of those.
I was playing in the majors in Little League and I was on the Diamondbacks. We were playing a game against the Yankees, one of the best teams in the league. It was just an ordinary game until the fourth inning. In the previous inning I made a diving catch to rob a kid who shall not be named from an RBI hit.
Needless to say, the kid was a little upset that he got robbed so when he came up in the fourth, he came up swinging with a vengeance. He eventually grounded a ball to shortstop. My teammate snatched the grounder and threw it over to me at first base.
The kid that shall not be named was out. As he crossed first base and as I was pulling my foot away, his cleat graciously landed on the top of my ankle, cutting open my Achilles tendon.
I fell to the ground immediately, writhing in pain as blood seeped through my baseball sock and I started rolling around in the dirt.
My mom did not run out onto the field.
My coach ran out to me, as he was yelling at the opposing team’s coach, to see if I was ok, which I wasn’t.
My mom still had not come out to the field.
I was helped up and I hobbled my way to the dugout.
Still, my mom sat in the stands.
As I hobbled I looked to see where my mom was because she had not come out. She was in the stands, standing up with her hands to her mouth and tears in her eyes, but the important thing to me was that she was still in the stands.
As hurt as I was and as bad as I wanted her to come out to help me, I was glad that she didn’t because real ball players do not have their moms run out there when they are hurt.
But the pain for my mom did not end with my injury. As bad as I wanted her to come with me to the hospital I made her stay to watch the end of the game because I wanted to know who ended up winning the game.
I know that was one of the hardest things for my mom to do, but she did it for me.
Throughout my Little League years, my mom was nervous during every game. But that game was the worst for her, yet she held her cool and did not embarrass me by running out to the field when I got hurt.
That is what I consider my mom’s proudest moment as a Little League parent.
