Amie made me feel a little less lonely here. Baseball moms take care of each other. We learn about teachers, parenting, and of course, the struggles. We cover trends we can’t pull off and some that we rock. We discuss hair coloring, and exhaustion. We order blankets, hats, and shirts; we are superfans! We love baseball and watching our kids play.
Know this, baseball is the chosen sport. Grab your pucks and thin edged sticks; I’ll take you on.
Baseball season always coincided with the end of the school-year. It was a daring adventure to be among these women comparing our battle scars, laughing and just being present. I didn’t realize how lonely life would be without you—especially with the world being wack-a-doodle and all of us being isolated. Baseball is healing. We need each other. I need you. I need your stories. I need your laughter. I need to be the obnoxious mom with the walkie talkies quietly calling out, “He was safe! Copy?” Why text when you can say, “Ten Four...Over and Out!” We would stake out two positions for a legitimate call. Baseball needs more mom scouts.
Yep. I am that mom. Don’t get me wrong. We lived by codes of discipline and conduct; we kept each other in check. You always show respect to the umpires. Here’s the issue, we know everything there is to know about baseball. It’s a fine line to walk.
At the games, Cassie fed us pop-corn, Melissa always had something beautiful to share and Lisa was our rock. Rhonda always arrived early and saved a seat for me. I miss showing up and seeing her waiting. Kristina had junk food and I brought Dr. Pepper. I like to sit at an angle near home plate and keep track of balls and strikes. We have systems; like players, moms have their own baseball routines and superstitions. These are my memories. I’m talking 14 years of moms’s weaving tales and taking care of each other.
That mom, #Kelley, the one who made salads, I fell in love with her. She has the soul of a baseball mom. Her stories have stories. And Lord, she hates baseball! Yet, she is one of us. Kelley looked to us to know when to cheer and be disappointed—mostly followed by, “I don’t get it.” We mentored her despite her indifference. I can see us all laughing now...Karie, Cassie, Kelley, Kristina and me—so many amazing women over the years. This is the beauty of baseball friendships. We laugh and support one another while dressing the wounds that will become our battle scars. I miss you all so much.
Baseball moms are a fierce lot. We will show up with one salad, seven extra-large cheese pizzas, and 30 pieces of splintered ‘Wood Bat League’ official bat chunks worth $1500 to defend one another.
We do a great job of raising each other up and over challenges. Ladies, I think, now, just might be a ‘secret special season.’ We got this; we just have to grow through, just grow through. It’s awkward and we are all a little cockamamied. So we wait, millions of baseball moms across the world, all standing by, longing to hear...