I don’t know how you can be so small, worn-out, and dirty and have so much power.
You’re used, and bustin’ at the seams. At first glance you don’t even look like you’re worthy of a glance. But in the hands of a little leaguer you are the most important thing ever … on Earth … in the universe. You deserve glances … many of them.
Throughout all the Bad News Bears and Sandlot moments two players emerge holding you in their hands.
At the end of every game, I tell him he did great, I tell him he blasted it, I tell him he ran fast, I tell him I’m proud of him, and I mean it. I don’t mess around with those fake, empty compliments that adults lavish on kids. If he didn’t live up to his potential that game, I chalk it up to a bad day and tell him to do better next time. I give him truth and encouragement. I give him love and acceptance. I give him the good-job-pat-on-the-back booster. But the mighty Rawlings says everything better. The smile is evidence of it all.
It makes him feel vindicated. It produces pride and a sense of accomplishment in my little leaguer. It creates that awesome-moment feeling all day. It’s something he’s been wanting all season long. It’s something I as parent strive to do, but for some reason that honor was not mine. It was an Adventure List item he had to earn all by himself.
That day, the power of the mighty Rawlings dominated. That day, the power of the game ball brought a smile to his face all day and in truth it made me smile too. That day the green oversized No. 11 jersey, that seemed to drape over him on most days appeared to fit him just right.
And then that moment got me thinking … as a parent, as a mom, as a woman I need a game ball for life because sometimes those roles are giant-sized and you need to be reminded that you’re big enough to fit in those shoes — that you’re badass.
Game Ball … you’re pretty powerful stuff.
- Sandbox Adventure List 20: The Diamond (thewishfactor.wordpress.com)