"Outta the Park....Mom?"

This week’s outdoor highlight didn’t include spotting a bald eagle, gazing at a snowy mountain peak or watching a whale jut out of the frigid water….nope… the outdoor adventure of the week included an all-American vigorous game of softball played with some twenty elementary and junior-high school students.

Before leaving Medford, I anxiously packed all sorts of sports gear in our luggage and even paid a hefty fee for bringing the extra baggage. My rationalization was that it would easier for Andrew to transition to living in Hoonah if he had familiar things to play with. I packed a soccer ball, flag football set, football with a tee, two bats, mitts and loads of balls, ranging from whiffle to hard. So, a couple of weeks ago I go to Steve, holding a gear bag and relay my discovery, “Surprisingly, Andrew has not asked to once to play with any of these things.” He just smiles knowing from experience that kids rarely need much “gear” to be happy. I sit perplexed actually trying to remember the last time we played a “sport” game. I concluded that it was soccer and it was my idea to play.

Monday afternoon I had another idea. I wanted to play ball. I loaded up my Ashland Co-op cloth bag with two mitts, balls and a metal and wooden bat. When I met Andrew outside of his classroom he took one look at the bag and his eyes lit up. In a flash we were making our way to the dirt field…he waved to a couple of his friends and yelled for them to come hit some “homers.” As we poured out the well-used of our bag, a reluctant, tall sixth grade girl watched from the sideline wearing a shy hint on her face. With little prodding, she gladly joined our game.

I was designated pitcher. One after another, students stepped up to plate. Trendy tennis shoes planted and bat back, spring-loaded. Before I let the ball travel over the plate, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Their sweet faces were smudged in awkward anticipation combined with pure and innocent hope. As I prepped each pitch, the glint in their eyes read, “Please, let me hit the ball. Ooooohhhhh please let me hit the ball.”

Soon we had so many kids wanting to play that I stopped and divided us into teams. Batters ranged in ages from 6 to 13 years old. The bats and mitt were either too long or too short, but nonetheless balls were flying, fouling or striking in every direction. I didn’t set any ground rules and it became a free for all. There was a slew of stolen bases and over throws. We didn’t have an umpire…so if was the pitch was a ball or a strike was anybody’s guess. It was jubilant, competitive frenzy and we all loved it. Finally, it was my turn at bat. Tina, a tomboyish girl in basketball shorts, spitting out the side of her mouth, quickly pitched me a perfect ball. I slammed that red soft sphere “outta the park.” I took all four bases with hands raised and performed a victory dance over home plate.

Andrew had a great time. He didn’t send every ball to the outer rim of the field, but he didn’t care. He ran fast, stayed on base and brought in valuable runs for his team. He pitched a few fast balls that scared a junior high batter; one because it was fast and two because his other pitches almost took his head off. Andrew played shortstop, left field and any base that wasn’t covered. He made some outs and held his own beautifully against all the “big kids.” As I watch him play, I am amazed by how he thrives in all environments.

Kids came and went, but in the end we played hard for an hour a half. Flushed faced and bounding, Andrew went happily into his piano lesson. That night during Andrew’s prayers he thanked God for the nice piano teacher and the great baseball game. The next day, the talk in the halls was all about our game. Even Rene, the 5th/6th grade teacher told me that her students were talking about the home run made by Mrs. Pine. Mmmmmm a mom who can hit home runs…now there’s a much better reputation than “Carpet Lady” or “Weather Girl.”

When I was waiting for Andrew to pull his scooter out of the bike rack, the tall, 6th grade girl that joined us in yesterday’s game asked when we get to play again. We made a deal: the next clear day I’ll bring the bats, mitts and balls…she’ll bring the victory dance.