It was 1973. Gas was 39 cents a gallon, you could buy a new car for less than $4,000 and in Dickson County baseball was king of sports. Jeff turned 6 that summer and of course we signed him up for baseball. Not rag ball or t-ball but real baseball! Bless his heart many days he came home from practice with a black eye or split lip from being hit in the face with the baseball. His little team of athletic misfits were cute to watch but I dont think any of the parents thought a championship was in their future. A lot of the outfielders took their time in the field to dance, pick up rocks or grab themselves in hopes the coach would signal them to go to the restroom. Jeff, like his team mates, was more interested in buying something from the concession stand that was run by the McClouds. This was my first experience of being a baseball parent and I learned quickly some of my cohorts took the games pretty seriously. These mothers thought nothing of screaming some pretty vile things at the umpire when a play was not called as they thought it should be. I vowed I would not embarrass myself or my children by making a scene during a game. The kids who played for the Charlotte teams also played at White Bluff, Vanleer and Burns. The rules, umpires and fields were not always uniform as was proven during an away game one Friday night. The game was to start at 7:00 p.m. but instead of the ump yelling, Play ball!, the fathers of the players on the opposing team were milling around home plate. Finally, word reached our side of the field that the umpire had not shown up. Rather than reschedule the game a man who was sitting in the bleachers was asked to umpire. He agreed and put on the chest and face protectors and the game started. It became very clear that this man did not know anything about calling a baseball game. Our boys were 3 up and 3 down and the other side came to bat. The first kid hit a ground ball that got by the shortstop. Of course, their side erupted in cheers. The little boy just stood at home plate acting like he didnt know what he was supposed to do. All of sudden, the umpire yelled, Run! Not only did the umpire coach the kid to run but threw off the face mask and ran with the kid till he reached first base. You can just imagine the reaction of the outspoken moms on our side. Silently, I reminded myself it was just a game and not to make a fool of myself. The next batter was up and by golly that umpire did the exact same thing! Word filtered over to our side that not only did the guy not know how to call a baseball game he was also drunk. Unbelievably, at the end of 5 innings the score was tied and our best hitters were coming to bat. Quickly, the bases were loaded and you could cut the tension with a knife! The next batter hit a single past the first baseman and our player on third was heading home and the lead in the game. The right fielder picked up the ball and hurled it toward home base. The crowd on both sides were going crazy. Our player slide into home ahead of the throw and the Charlotte team was ahead. End of story? Oh no! It was at this time I realized I was on the field. Evidently, I had come around the fence when our player hit the single and I had run half way to home plate with the kid that was on third base. I slunk back to my lawn chair and sat down, hoping no one had noticed what I had just done. If they did they were nice enough not to say anything. Our little team went on to win the game that night and I realized I was one of those crazy baseball moms after all!
Posted on: Mon, 22 Sep 2014 12:05:24 +0000
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