Riley had his first Tball game last week. After having two boys go through Tball previously I knew I was in for a treat. The years that succeed Tball are exciting and fun but nothing quite compares to the first Tball game of the season.
Riley was the first up to bat. He hit the ball on the first swing and ran as quick as he could to first base. I sat in my chair just happy that he went the right direction. I cheered him and watched him do his infamous victory dance around the poor 5-year-old boy who clearly looked confused as to what he should be doing.
The second batter was up to bat. He bunted the ball and ran to take Riley's place at first. Unfortunately, Riley wasn't paying attention. He was still busy doing his victory dance when his team mate met him at first base. His coach hollored at Riley to run. So that's exactly what Riley did.
Riley turned around, ran past first base, into the outfield, out through the back fence, and kept running until his coach caught up with him and directed him back to second base. Riley eventually made it to home plate but not before giving all the assistant coaches a run for the their money.
Finally, it was time for Riley to try his hand as a fielder. He was positioned at the pitcher's mound along side another one of his team mates. At about three hits in, Riley started waving to me and yelled "mom, hey mom!"
"What is it Riley?" I asked loudly over all the baseball commotion.
"The score is 101 to nothing and we're winning! The other team are big losers," Riley said proud of all the runs he witnessed his team getting in.
Embarrassed and completely aware of the other teams' scowling mothers looking at me, I responded as enthusiastically but politically correct as I could be.
"Well, you just wait Riley. They look like a pretty good team and I'll bet they'll catch up with you."
Now anyone who has had their child in Tball knows that every child gets to hit, run, and play in the field at every inning. Scores are not kept and outs are not made. The idea is to get the children to understand the basics of hitting, catching, and throwing.
Because this is a fairly new sport for most of these cute 4 and 5-year-olds, it is always a mad dash to get to the ball first. Frequently tug-of-wars occur over the ball, meanwhile no one cares if the other team's players make it to the plate or not. During this particular game Riley was involved in more than half of the battles over the ball. What makes this funny is that during the second inning, Riley was in outfield. He would immediately leave his position and tackle the pitcher for the ball. If the coach had a dollar for every time he had to tell Riley to stay in his position he could retire from little league baseball coaching and pay his way into becoming a major league coach.
Finally, as the game was coming to an end it was clear that the coach was beginning to become somewhat frustrated with Riley. During most of the field plays the kids would dog pile on top of the balls. And who would run and cannon ball on top of them,...yep my sweet Riley. Even if there was one child who had the ball, Riley would tackle them to the ground.
I finally called a time-out (although technically it's not legal for parents to do that) to pull Riley aside and have a chat with him about his tackling.
"Riley, you can not tackle your team mates or I will have to pull you from the game," I sternly told him.
"But mom, that's what they do in football," he said to me in all seriousness.
Trying not to laugh I asked him if he was wearing a football uniform. He looked down and said no. I asked him if it was a soccer or basketball uniform. He said no and that it was a baseball uniform.
"Yes, you're right Riley. It is a baseball uniform. Now do baseball players tackle to get the ball or do football players tackle to get the ball?" I asked him.
"Football players!" he exclaimed.
"Well then, you should probably stop tackling your team mates, don't you think?" I asked him.
He thought for about this for a second, handed me his hat and glove, and said to me:
"Let's go find the football team."
The moral of this story: You might take the boy out of tackling but you'll never take the tackle out of the boy.
