I have made my annual pilgrimage to the fields to observe the boys’ and girls’ baseball programs in action.
One of the older grandkids went with me the first evening. As we approached the Sater Street Diamonds he asked, “Which diamond is he playing on?”
“I don’t know,” I answered as we walked down the hill at the south end.
“Oh. Well what’s the name of his team?” he asked
“I haven’t the least idea,” I responded still walking forward.
We moved right along, passing the first diamond. “Do you know what color his uniform is?” he asked hopefully.
“Haven’t the foggiest notion,” I replied as we continued purposefully on.
He stopped. “Grandma, how do you think you’re going to find them?”
I paused and looked at him. “No problem. We just look for relatives. Or they find us.” Just then a smiling granddaughter approached and led us to our relatives in the bleachers.
Looking at it through the grandson’s eyes, I suppose I seemed senile. I began to think I really needed to get better organized—at least find out the name of the teams.
But then, during the sixth inning I had a chat with a young friend. She had walked in with another grandmother whose first question was, “Is this the Sater Street Diamonds? At least I knew where I was.
My friend asked the lady the same question my grandson asked me. She couldn’t answer them either, but she finally offered, “I know my grandson’s name.” By now I’m sure she’s found out that her relatives will find her eventually.
After our 12-year-old’s game ended in a win, we made our way to the next diamond where the 8-year-old was playing. I was amazed to see how well they are catching the ball this year. Last year they had a tendency to either duck or hold the glove up and hope the ball landed in it.
Saturday morning I made it out to the 4-and 5-year-old’s game. That was real entertainment.
There is a fence pole beyond first base that’s high and painted bright yellow. I was told that when a particular little one hit the ball he was told to run to the pole. He took off, passed first base, passed the yellow pole and ran to a light pole on the next diamond.
A 5-year old on the girls’ soft ball diamond was on third base. When her teammate got a hit, the coach yelled at her, “Run home!” That little girl ran confidently to the dugout.
Our 4-year-old granddaughter was “playing” pitcher Saturday. When someone hit a ball off the tee, she just stood patiently and watched the ball roll towards her.
“Catch that ball,” her mom yelled.
She just looked around at all the other kids hustling to get the ball and then looked at her mom with an expression that clearly said, “Why?” There’s a lot of her grandma in that little girl.
I really recommend that if you are looking for healthy, free entertainment, stroll over to the kids’ ball diamonds. From the youngest to the oldest you can watch their skills develop.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This column was first published in the Greenville Advocate on July 8, 1998.
Kathleen Floyd is a volunteer citizen columnist, who serves The Daily Advocate readers weekly with her column Back Around the House II. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Viewpoints expressed in the article are the work of the author. The Daily Advocate does not endorse these viewpoints or the independent activities of the author.