When your child joins Little League for the first time, there’s
plenty to worry about: What if your child can’t hit the ball? What
if he gets hurt? What if he never gets to first base? Or what if
there are aggressive kids? Or demanding coaches?
When your child joins Little League for the first time, there’s plenty to worry about: What if your child can’t hit the ball? What if he gets hurt? What if he never gets to first base? Or what if there are aggressive kids? Or demanding coaches?
However, no one ever mentions – The Hat.
Let me explain.
There are several subtle differences between organized sports for kids and the kind you see at major ballparks. The major one is that in first kind, kids are playing. Which means that the salaries are much lower, and there is a lot less spitting and cussing. At least by the players.
The other difference is the accessories. And, believe me, in Little League baseball there are a lot of them to keep track of. Belts, cleats, matching socks, etc. But let me just say all of these are mere trifles compared to – The Hat.
Now, I’ve always considered hats to be a low-key optional sort of accessory. Something you wear mostly in the spring, or at theme parks, or if you’re going to play tennis.
However, in Little League baseball, hats seem to take on a whole new sense of importance, right up there with discount shoe shopping and wrinkle-free clothing.
I found this out on the first day of practice when the coach passed out the uniforms. He looked around at the parents and said, “Your child must wear his hat during every game.” I could tell by the way he stared at me when he emphasized “every” that he’d already sized me up as the sort of person who’s late for orthodontist appointments and has overdue library books. In other words, a HAT LOSER.
Naturally my first thought was, “Pshaw! Only a fool would lose their son’s baseball hat.”
However, I admit, I’ve never had a good track record with accessories. For reasons I don’t fully understand, every winter I go through a flurry of gloves and scarves and umbrellas only to finally end up in mid-February with nothing left but one wool mitten and the top part of a snowsuit.
So it must not be too surprising that since my son started his Little League career I’ve found, and lost, the same baseball hat at least 27,403 times. It’s gotten so I have a permanent “I’m looking for something” expression on my face.
The bright side is that I’ve discovered a whole plethora of places where baseball hats will never, ever be no matter how many times you look. So there’s no need to waste your time trying. They are, in no particular order: on your child’s head, the backseat, the washing machine, the last place you left it, the place where everyone swears they saw it, on the hat shelf in the closet or in the sports bag.
That said, on the other hand, there are tons of places the hat will turn up that you will never, ever think of looking. They are: the top rack of the oven, the fruit bowl, the china cabinet and the cat’s water dish.
Now I probably don’t need to tell you that as soon as baseball season ends, our hat problem is automatically solved. Not only because we don’t need a hat anymore, mind you, but because it’s always, ALWAYS exactly where we left it: on the hook behind the front door.
Right where his soccer cleats should be.
