FALLS CHURCH, Virginia — I knew it could be his last Little League at-bat. I hoped it wasn’t. We were down 2-0 with two outs in the bottom of the sixth. If Sean could get on base, the top of the order would come up and maybe make some playoff magic happen.I was emotional as my youngest son stepped into the left-handed batter’s box. But it turns out I wasn’t emotional enough.This wasn’t the end of Sean’s baseball career, after all — he will keep playing middle school ball. His oldest brother still has another year of varsity to come.
But right before getting in bed that night, I realized the weight of the moment that had passed: I probably just spent my last evening in the dugout.
(Tim Carney)
I played seven years of organized ball as a child, including Little League, Babe Ruth ball, summer leagues, junior varsity, and finally varsity. My career there ended with an infield single that forestalled our elimination by exactly one at-bat. I’m incurably sentimental and extremely romantic about baseball. After the loss, and after everyone had gone home, I sat in center field for about 10 minutes to soak it in.
I was blessed with a second act in my 20s, playing in a men’s league for another seven years. As much as I remember the game — the outfield, the batters’ box, the basepaths — I reminisce too about the languid Sunday morning doubleheaders in the dugout with the guys. Being on the Murphy’s Green Sox was the best thing I did between college and marriage. The Sox dugout was the site for thrills, agony, and the best jokes, including the worst jokes, of my life. It was also the very best sitting around of my life.
