I love watching him play.
He looks so cute in his little baseball pants, team jersey and hat, and his toothy grin. But besides his adorableness, I mostly love how he LOVES THIS GAME.
He wants to get to practices early. He wants to stay late and watch other games. If he could spend every evening at the baseball field, he would. He is SUCH a baseball player.
This game makes him happy, which in turn makes ME happy.
That said, watching your son play baseball is a double edged sword. Pure joy and excitement when he makes a play, but gut wrenching tension when he is "the one" everyone is looking at to come through. The crowd goes wild when he does well, and is equally loud in their "awwww's" when he doesn't.
That's my baby out there, and I just want him to do well, because that makes him happy and proud of himself. And baseball seems so HARD!! To be able to hit, throw, bunt, catch, run, pitch, dive through the air to catch the ball and know just where to quickly throw it when you do, make double plays, cover home...it never ends!!
I know it is the same for every other player on the field, but when it is Tigers player #11, my stomach is truly in knots...and the following is a window into my thoughts:
"Please hit it...please hit it....please hit it..."
"Please catch it...please catch it...please catch it..."
"Please throw a strike...please throw a strike...
please throw a strike..."
...and we have another game tomorrow night.
Wish me luck. :)