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poop beetle: more t ball
4.2003
At T Ball practice my kid stands with his back to the action. The opposite direction is just way more interesting.
No one has trouble pronouncing his name, it's called a lot. "Awais keep your eye on the ball!"
"Awais! pick up your glove, buddy! How can you play without your glove? Come on, man! Get that glove!".
"Here! Awais! Look here! Catch the ball! Get down on it! That's right! Oops. That's o.k. but go get it. Go get it, Awais. Go Get the ball!. . . . You got to throw it back! Go get the ball!
Hey! Awais! bud!
Awais!
Go get the ball!"
I find myself, turning my back on the action a lot, too.
I think he's enjoying it. Or at least not hating it. It's something to do- to try, because we can.
The early evening practices are beautiful and warm. Everything smells like cut grass. Ants are building colonies on the ball field and my boy is there to see it.
These coaches are amazing. It's only an hour, but it feels much longer. There's no hard-core win, win, win berating stuff. This age group doesn't attract that type.
Unlike my little brother who was taught by his sisters (before being re-taught by local coaches), Awais won't learn to throw like a girl. Even if he continues to piroutte after throwing the ball, the stance and technique, wind up and release is all boy.
