Kids’ games drive some parents batty
By ARYN CORLEY
In any given city on any given school night, pint-sized warriors take the field to match skills and attention disorders.Tee ball was created as a contest of genetic superiority. There isn’t a better way to metaphorically declare “my kid is better than your kid” than to have them on a baseball field wondering just what the heck to do next.
Pageants would be a lot better if only they had more contact.
Sometimes I wonder whether or not the game is really meant for the younsters or us parents.
If the game were truly for the kids, the parents would be asked to leave. Heck, instead of T-ball it could be called something else like “Play-in-the-antbed ball” or “Hey-look-it’s-a-plane ball.” If you really want a kid to become interested in aviation, put him or her in the outfield. Game time is the perfect time for amateur botanists to examine specimens.
Getting two dozen kids to play an organized game is like herding cats. You’d probably have an easier time brokering a peace deal between the Israelis and the Palestinians.I love it because it drives parents crazy.
At one of my son’s games, I watched the parents instead of the kiddos. It was definitely worth the price of admission.At first I thought the moms and dads were cheering, but as I listened closer those cheers sounded more like helpless pleas.
“Throw to first!,” one mom yelled.
“Run, run, run!,”, a dad bellowed.
“Stop picking your nose!,” cried a legal guardian.
It was not long before exasperated parents began to threaten their kids. People’s children were going to bed early and having video games taken away left and right. Let’s face it — fear is the substance of childhood. Without it, being a kid would be meaningless.The mere possibility of my parents ending my existence kept me always striving to hide the evidence.
Some of the parents yelled out to their offspring. They shouted names like “Forrest,” “Bo,” and “Hunter.” It seemed less like a T-ball game and more like a trip to Gander Mountain.
It’s also easy to tell which kids have an aptitude for the game. Any kid who actually watches the ball is way ahead of the curve. If the ball looked more like the Death Star (a spherical weapon of mass destruction from the movie Star Wars), my spawn would be interested in it.
A kid’s only saving grace for a lackluster performance is batting. An infield homer washes away many sins. Saying a kid hit like a girl used to be an insult. However, these days the girls are the ones who are batting the runners in.
Ruth, the Babe?
Thankfully, nobody keeps score. Good thing. Otherwise, it would be hard for the bookies to work out the point spread.
