Braving Boys

No. 10, Donaldson

Joey is playing fall ball now, fine-tuning the skills he started building in his summer league. He’s doing quite well — got a triple today, and his coaches are trying him out at first base — but there are a few differences between the two seasons.

No coaches pitching, just a machine that whips the ball 45-mph ball at my boy. Stinging hands are a side effect. Batting gloves help.

Cups are required. Cups are uncomfortable. Cups make Joey feel like he’s wearing a diaper.

Concessions fund this league, which means parents must take turns working, which means John will be working.  Making change is not my strong suit.

Dress code required. Well, not really, but many moms and dads were decked out in the team color to show their support. Note to self: Buy red.

Players get numbers on their shirts. Joey is No. 10.

Of all the skills these two boys have picked up this summer on their baseball teams, batting comes out on top. They both knew virtually nothing about America’s favorite pastime at their first practices and now, they can throw the ball, catch the ball, field the ball and kill. the. ball. with their beautiful and powerful swings. Danny (my Cubs guy) did it the other night during his second-to-last game of the season — it would have been a home run had his first base coach told him to run right away, instead it was a triple — and Joey (Braves) smacks the ball every time he steps up to the plate. He cracked it six times at his last game — and I mean crack. Love that sound.

Baseball is over for Danny this year, and his trophy sits proudly on a shelf in his bedroom. Joey has one more game left, and we can’t wait to see what the guy has left in him. A homer, maybe? Could be in the cards.

They appear as mere specks, but here, my boys dive for the very first time off the high dive at a city swimming pool. We’d never been to this pool before today, even though we’ve looked at it countless times from the park/playground it neighbors.

This was just one stop on my tire-these-boys-out tour on this fine Thursday. Before splashing, diving and barreling down a twisty slide, my guys spent four hours at a sports-type camp. Then came the swim, then two hours at home (rib dinner included — found them at a grocery store this morning), then baseball practice for the big guy. They could do little more than shuffle themselves inside to hit the shower when it was all over, and now they sleep peacefully, like little angels, storing up more energy for another day.

Above: Danny, diving

Above: Joey, diving

Danny spends most of his time during baseball practices and games staring at the clouds, picking daisies and drawing circles in the dirt. He’s 6 years old, and I think this is OK. One day, while playing second base and holding his glove between his knees — obviously enjoying a beautiful daydream — a ball sailed right by him. He never knew it. Last night, during a game, he actually stopped a ball. Instead of throwing it to the first base girl (who happened to be his cousin Jordan), Danny squeezed that ball in his glove and walked right back to position. The batter was safe at first.

We keep cheering for Danny, even though he doesn’t quite get the game of baseball, because he is trying as hard as he can and, well, because he is one heck of a batter.