Disclaimer: Any resemblance to baseball is purely coincidental.
If peewee soccer players are bees swarming after the ball, then a peewee baseball team is a flock of ducks. Very hungry ducks, tripping over each other in …

He’s not going to wear a batting helmet – it’s silly.
He’s not going to hit off a tee – that’s for 2-year-olds.
He’s not going to put his hands closer together on the bat because that’s …

First off, thanks to Debra for the chance to guest post on her blog.
One of her favorite features (and mine) is giving a SWAT – Stop Wasting America’s Time – to groups or people who …

I hate it when I fall in love with a baseball team.
There are numbers and names to learn, stats to memorize, favorites to pick. The last part is easy: Unless the shortstop’s a total schmuck, …

Anyone remember the Hanes commercials back in the late 80s? That campaign was so revealing that appearing in it motivated NFL quarterback Boomer Esiason to tone up. Even my mother made note. “I’m tired of …

Hey, didn’t the Bowl Championship Series end two weeks ago when Florida beat Oklahoma in Miami?
Then why was it being played again for 40 minutes Thursday in the U.S. House of Representatives?
Because a representative from …

Weather warm enough that we shed our jackets on the way home from school last week inspired  Big Guy to ask a version of the question flitting through my mind:
“How long until they’re playing baseball …

I got a telemarketing call tonight I’m sorry I missed. I might even return it.
It was from the local Single A baseball team and immediately made me forget I’ve been shivering most of the day …

Dodged the rain again! Didn’t dodge the Halloween hangover, though. Little Guy’s so sick of sweets he didn’t even want post-game Oreos. And this after spending all season trying to mooch the team’s snacks.
Play of …

I thought WVU’s 4:30 p.m. Pacific time kickoff would work.
Big Guy’s soccer practice starts at 5:30 so that gave him less than an hour, taking into account fiddling-around-getting-ready time and pregame talking heads time, to …

Week 6? When did that happen?
We’re headed toward bye week. I think I’ll send Big Guy to practice even if there is none. I like seeing him sack out on the couch, exhausted, and …

A cold and windy Soccer Saturday.

How cold was it? After much initial protest, Big Guy finally admitted he was glad he has his jacket. Little Guy hid out under the blanket the whole game. And turtle necks, long sleeves and gloves were everywhere.

It’s not supposed to be this chilly in early October.

Last August, I didn’t give Reticent Kid’s soccer career more than a week, two max.

He cried through the first practice. Second practice there weren’t as many tears, but he pretty much was epoxied to his mom for the hour.

He cried through the first game. Even when he was playing goalie, which is the favorite position of reticent young’uns, because they get what to do. That and the goal makes a great pretend tent/fort/castle if you’re tired of watching everyone run away from you.

The second game, he protested a bit before standing gamely in at goalie. His mom stayed near him, offering reassurance.

And by the end of the game, he had a huge smile.

How’d you do that? I asked his mom.

It was a dark and stormy morning.
Seriously, it was.
To which Big Guy said, “Soccer in the rain? All right!” To which Little Guy said, repeatedly. “Want it to be over. Wanna go home.” You just …

Serious strategic error in signing up for soccer snacks this season: I was too far away from the coach’s wife when the sheet went around and I’m stuck with a November game.
Tragically, that’s near the …

There are two kinds of aggressive in life.
There’s the kind that’s hard-charging and relentless, but fair.
Then there’s the kind that plays dirty if someone gets in the way.
Big Guy and his teammates ran into the …

* The yellow and black uniforms do make them look like a swarm of bumblebees. And they’re about as organized, too.
* Big Guy did OK for himself — three goals on the day, including …

It’s early in Big Guy’s soccer season — only three practices so far and the first game’s not until Saturday — and I hate to rush to judgment, but I’m ready to declare my team …

Confession: I am butt over elbows in love with a married man. One with four kids, no less.
His wife knows, too. In fact, she called today to arrange a rendezvous.
“”Hey, Debra, this is Kim from …

They first gathered under a blazing August sun, eight kids new to soccer, plus one “experienced veteran”
That practice sank disorganization to a whole new level, as kids darted here and there, grasping many blades of …

Bill Stewart
“What’s that say, Mommy?” Big Guy asked, pointing to the banner a West Virginia fan held during the Fiesta Bowl tonight.
“It says, ‘We’ll never leave you,’” I replied.
“Who left?”
“The Mountaineers’ coach. He got another …

The No. 2 curse didn’t kill West Virginia – the football team, its national championship hopes, half the state – Saturday.
It was the Big Guy curse, a far more powerful phenomenon.
I thought we were over …

Ran into a recently retired co-worker friend Friday at the ballpark — literally.
It was during the first Little Guy escape of the night. He had bolted from our seats one row back from the field …

Big Guy might or might not have scored his first goal Saturday. It’s been a raging controversy in our house for the past 30-some hours.
The facts to which Big Guy Sr. and I agree:
Big Guy …

They first gathered under a blazing August sun, eight kids new to soccer, plus one “experienced veteran”

That practice sank disorganization to a whole new level, as kids darted here and there, grasping many blades of grass but few concepts.

They last gathered Saturday for their end-of-season party. That’s when I realized how much I’m also going to miss these kids.

It doesn’t take long to fall in love with them when they’re this age. You can’t help but be in awe of how far little bugs can fly in two short months.

By the end of September, we didn’t have to remind them to pay attention. Suddenly, they were focused on the game, even when they were sitting on the

Big Guy might or might not have scored his first goal Saturday. It’s been a raging controversy in our house for the past 30-some hours.

The facts to which Big Guy Sr. and I agree:

Big Guy led the charge down the field, and he was actually running in the same direction as the rest of his team and going toward the right goal. That in and of itself was a major accomplishment.

He got within a yard of the goal, hesitated and then kicked softly. The ball bounced off the left post.

By that time, the defense had caught up to him, and he and a player from the other team kicked the ball, the air and each others’ ankles. The opposing player finally kicked the ball in.

From

I’d promised the guys all summer we’d go to another baseball game. I even circled dates on schedule, intending to hit one a month. But days slipped into weeks that slipped into months, and we hadn’t made it back.

My procrastination was rooted in a desire to avoid the scene of the crime. I spent most of our last visit with the guys, walking and wailing around the concourse, instead of watching Randy Johnson.

Still, a promise is a promise, so when Big Guy asked late last week when we were going to see Wally, the Modesto Nuts mascot, again, I bought tickets and hoped for the best.

The best turned out better than I’d hoped. Tonight, I found my baseball buddy.

I’ve always had people who