Kickin' Up the Dirt

What's dirtier than American politics these days? My car and my kitchen. Yep, Fall Ball is here. The kids are so excited and of course that means new cleats for baseball and softball (don't confuse them with soccer or football, heaven forbid!). Both kids are in the Minor League of their respective sport which brings on a new kind of competition and debate: what hurts the most -- a baseball pitch or a fastpitched softball?

My son LOVES to practice sliding, which means he brings home half the Georgia clay off the field and into my car. When the shoes come off, more dirt breaks free from his shoes, socks, shirt and hat -- most assuredly right after the floor has been cleaned. My son requested a pair of "sliders" to protect his legs when he slides. Sliders, I've come to learn, are like today's girdle with extra padding on the outer thighs. All my adult life, I'm trying to get rid of the extra padding (natural padding, I might add) and my little boy needs more of it! Another motherhood irony sent from the universe!

These ball games are great places to people watch. Some parents talk like their children are guaranteed college scholarships and first round draft choices to the Major Leagues. The competitive nature that some parents shamelessly voice (loudly, I might add) seems to be an involuntary response from their own inner-child saying "pick me! pick me! Oh, don't let me be the last one chosen for the kickball team!"

I wonder if the comments coming from the parents reflects their attitude in the bedroom --
Demanding: C'mon, hurry up already!
Encouraging: That a boy, sweetheart -- you can do it!
Whining: Why can't you get it right? I've told you 100 times how to hold it!
Coaching: You can do it... smack it hard! [after a strike}: that's okay, good swing; you'll get it next time!

And everyone is an expert -- the only visually impaired person in the ball park is the home plate umpire. People are so cruel to these often over-weight fellas covered in hot, sweat protective gear. Don't stress them out, I say. If they have a heart attack on the field, then the whole game might be called!

I'm feeling brave about losing the PC style, since probably no one will be reading this anyway. If you bust me, let me know!

Cheers!