Tag: #baseball

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Parents, you are dismissed

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#16 Lenten Reflections

Today at my son’s game the pitcher’s mom arrived as her son finished warming up for the first pitch of the game. Flustered, she asked if she missed anything. My friend and I who are weathered moms and loaded with mom empathy, reassured her she was right on time and she didn’t miss a bit of her son pitching. Her shoulders dropped in relief as she looked up and saw her son throw the first pitch. The ball was hit and off it went over the center field fence. A home run. Oh s#$#! she said. We both said we were so sorry. Then she replied to the us and perhaps the universe, “It’s okay. That’s what happens, you just have to stay positive and get through the hard times. That’s what I tell my son.” Wow, she’s a calmer mom than I…she gathered her chair, leather bag with a baseball blanket sticking out, and her water bottle and headed off to cheer on her son. Clearly, not her first rodeo.

I mulled over the mom’s applause-worthy reaction and the role parents play as we wedge ourselves into our children’s activities, both financially and emotionally. Whether it’s a field or court, rink, track, or diamond, being a parent of an athlete is exhilarating and exhausting. Lord knows as hard as it is sometimes, we clearly don’t want to miss a moment of it, but sometimes we should probably consider stepping away to exhale.

Exhilarating for kids

Think about it. Sports are amazing for kids. The skill-building is endless. Teamwork, communication, winning losing, and having fun even through the rough moments. On my son’s team, they have to throw on their rain boots and transfer gallons of water off the baseball field tarp after a big rain…boom! Hard work! In the off-season, they show up at 5:30 every morning to workout as a team. Committment! Endless practice and extra hours at the batting cage build up their Dedication. They even print reminders on the back of their workout shirts like “Earn it!” or “Good Enough Needs Improvement!” just in case they forget they learned these priceless skills and must have them at the ready 24/7.

Exhausting for us

It’s all fun games until our kid is up to bat or on the blocks, that’s when the stress flows like the Ganges, but Mother Theresa is nowhere in sight to keep us grounded. Will they hit the ball? Will they reach for the wall first on the 100 freestyle? Will they return the serve? As parents we let ourselves live and die with every pitch, play, or punt. And how about the times when our kids sit on the bench? Or get disqualified? Or come in last? Or get replaced with a pinch hitter? Our hearts race and a steady stream of steam blows out of our ears.

As parents, we have no control…so will rituals help?

Call them superstitions, old wives’ tales, or a touch of Feng Shui, whatever the term, parents and any passionate fans have their reasons why they sit in a certain spot, wear a lucky shirt, or take the same route to the game. We truly think we are that powerful. Personally, I sometimes think filming our son while batting will lead him to strike out. Or if I yell something clever, like “Take a deep breath or Be aggressive!” That will send the ball soaring. But I have to do it every time if he hits or not at all if he doesn’t. I also know I will never wear my blue tank top with an American flag on it to a game because the last time I wore it, my son got hit in the eye with a ball. Call it crazy, or love, or ritualistic – mainly crazy.

There’s a funny story I read about a pitcher’s mom who, for years would pace behind bleachers, and cross her fingers while her son was on the mound. Once she actually kept her foot on a cooler for an entire game because her son’s team started losing when she took it off. She also was known to move people in the stands back to the seats they had when her team was winning or to new ones when they were losing. After all of the foot-holding on coolers and directing musical chairs, she finally decided the best way to truly relax at a game is to know you can’t do anything to change the lineup, the score, or the outcome of the game. It’s all up to the players and coaches- even though we don’t always agree with them.

I think back to when our kids were playing soccer and all the players took turns at goalie. Goalie. The last line of defense with a bunch of seven-year-olds charging for them. I could feel my heart race, my voice get louder, and my frantic pace speed up. Same if they pitch or have to kick a penalty shot or are the last leg of a race. Somehow, I make it about me. But these are not our games to play. They never are. We are their ride Home.

Parents, you are dismissed.

Sometimes we need to step off the sideline, climb down from the bleachers, fold up our chairs, and walk away. Some may feel living through their kids’ sporting events is an indicator of parental awesomeness. Gotta catch my son’s game, it’s waaay out in Canton. The bike race is at 7:00 am, and we’ll be leaving at 5:00 a.m! On a Saturday!

Author, Daniel Pink says “Compared to other parts of our children’s lives, sports are bizarrely parent-centric. We don’t gather in the back of algebra class and watch students solve quadratic equations. In music dance and theater, we don’t attend every single practice, lesson and rehearsal. We just show up for an occasional performance, keep our mouths shut and applaud like crazy when it’s over.” Imagine.

What I learned:

We throw out kids into “games of failure” like baseball and only want to see success. Any sign of struggle and we think we have to keep our children afloat, pushing bright orange water wings onto their arms. One for confidence and strength, the other for resilience and faith. But they float on without them and us.

Maybe if we remember sports are about the stories they tell and the friends they make and simply be their biggest fans in the crowd or from the car, waiting for them to tell you all about it. Good luck with that…

P.S.: To the level-headed pitcher’s mom – you should really stay. He did really well after the home run.

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Windy Days & Baseball

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#15 Lenten Reflections

Last week (and tonight) it was a crazy windy day at the Lake Pointe Baseball Complex in Emerson, GA. As I sat watching our son’s games, my hair whipped all over the place. No hair tie. Which is rare for me, like most girls or women with ponytail-ready hair, my wrist dons at least one hair tie. But that morning during class, I had a 4-year-old student who found it comforting and perhaps delicious to suck on the ends of her hair. So I helped put her damp, yet shiny hair in a very high ponytail so she could sing along to our Spanish songs.

Anyway, as I watched pitchers struggle and fly balls change direction like the wind in a sail, I wondered how these gales affected the game. So I did some research and discovered a guy named John Farley, the Chief Technology Officer for Weather Applied Metrics (see this link for an information video). The company measures weather impacts on baseball (and sports in general) using Computational Fluid Dynamics (CFD) modeling, standard trajectory physics, and other meteorological analysis. In short, they study sports and wind.

According to Farley,

“If the wind is blowing hard, that’s the most significant impact. A headwind, combined with a downdraft, can shorten a fly ball hit to the wall by as much as 60 feet. A tailwind, combined with an updraft can lengthen it by as much as 45 feet.”

He went on to say since baseballs absorb moisture from the air “the difference in distance between very dry air and very wet air is roughly 50 feet. That’s because a wet ball is slightly heavier and spongier, so it doesn’t come off the bat as fast. On a hotter day, the air is less dense and so a ball can travel as much as 30 feet farther, compared to a cold day.”

I got kind of lost in the technical jargon, but if I had to play in the wind, I’d prefer a tailwind on a hot day.

Windy at Wrigley Field

I found an example of a windy day at Wrigley Field in Chicago.

Apparently, when the wind is blowing the field is considered a “pitcher’s park”. The better the pitchers, the lower the score. When the wind is blowing out, especially if it is a brisk wind, Wrigley Field becomes a launching pad.

According to The Philidelphia Tale blog, one of the wildest games ever was played in 1979 between the Cubs and the Phillies. The Phillies staked starter Randy Lerch to a seven-run lead in the top of the first inning. He never made it through the bottom of the first. Long fly balls turned into home runs. Short fly balls approached or reached the warning track. Flares flew over the infield and landed well short of outfielders playing near the warning track.

A parade of pitchers from both teams got shelled and watched ERAs soar. The Phillies finally won the game 23–22.

Players take on the wind: Look at the Flag for guidance

Larry Bowa, Phillies shortstop: “I remember the flag was stiff. After I left (Philadelphia) and played there (1982-85), I never saw the flag there ever blow like that. It was nonstop. Usually late in the game, it would stop a little bit.”

Ray Burris, Cubs relief pitcher: “When I would drive into the ballpark on Addison Ave., there was a business that had a United States flag on it. I would always check that flag to see which way that wind was blowing. When it was blowing straight toward the expressway, that was good (for pitchers). That meant the wind was blowing straight in from center field to home plate. Now it was going to take a cannon to get that ball out of there, but if it was blowing toward Lake Michigan, oh my goodness. It was unbelievable. That was just the elements you had to deal with.”

Mike Schmidt, Phillies third baseman: “There were days you played at Wrigley Field you couldn’t even think about a home run, wind would be blowing straight in. You could kill a ball and it would barely make the warning track and it’d have no chance. I’ve seen home run balls get caught at shortstop before. That’s what is unique and fun about Wrigley Field. When you get up in the morning and you’re downtown, you know which way the wind is going to blow from the flags on the buildings.”

What I learned:

It’s been one week since the last windy game and here I sit again on the third base line at Field 9. Rain is coming down, the flag is flying straight out and it’s about 38 degrees. The wind is whipping everything in site, the boys are on the field warming up and you would think it was a sunny day the way they are jogging around and yelling, “We love the cold!” I say a silent prayer that the one thing the wind (and coaches) can’t whip away is Zavier’s confidence.

I couldn’t be more grateful to have a destination. To be lucky enough to come and see my son play his last season of high school baseball. All I can do now is pray he plays, plays well, and when (yes, I said when) he hits the ball, I hope the wind is on his side.

Thanks for joining me, I am so grateful to you all-

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

The Beauty of Community + 40-year-old baseball glove found

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#6 – Lenten Reflections

“The greatness of a community is most accurately measured by the compassionate actions of its members.” – Coretta Scott King

Since you all are on this daily journey with me, I wanted to give you an update on the baseball equipment that was stolen from my son’s locker room over the weekend. Unfortunately, the items were not found, nor were the culprits.

However, what was revealed was priceless. In less than 24 hours — numerous baseball teams, alumni, neighbors, and families reached out and donated equipment and money to help get the team ready for our Monday night game.

So thanks to the love and generosity of our community, we were back in business! And who knows, the gloves and bats may turn up someday…

Coincidentally, I stumbled upon a fascinating article about a couple who frequented a Goodwill Superstore in Florida. One day the wife glanced at some sports equipment on a shelf, and staring right at her was her son’s baseball glove he had lost 40 years ago and 1,000 miles away.

Apparently, he left it on a baseball field in Ohio after a Little League All-Star game. He had hustled over on his bike the following morning to try and find it, but no luck. Until 40 years later! His mom bought it for $1.49.

So who knows, maybe years from now these boys will get their well-worn baseball gloves back, but for now, they will be just fine. After all, they are surrounded by a loving, kind, and generous community – what a blessing.

Thanks for joining me,

~Lucretia

Quotes I love:

For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest. That, says an old author, is why the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah 6:3). The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall have.” – C.S. Lewis

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Baseball Locker Room Robbed

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#4 Lenten Reflections – Losing a baseball glove is like losing a good friend

Our son’s High School Baseball Team’s locker room was robbed Friday night. Thousands of dollars of equipment was stolen. Bats, gloves, sunglasses, and bags.

Zavier’s glove is gone.

Let me explain Zavier. He’s just a cool kid. Huge smile, dazzling green eyes, and not a frivolous or pretentious bone in his body. Simply Zavier. What you see is what you get.

Unlike our other kiddos, who worked like crazy to save money for a car or truck, Zavier opted to buy his sister’s old car for a portion of the money he made working over the summer and save the rest for baseball gear.

So yesterday morning when Zavier returned from the batting cages, I asked how everything went and he replied, “Interesting”. Not hearing his signature, “Good” I knew something was wrong.

He went on, “We were robbed…bats, gloves, sunglasses, bags”. All gone. “Only my glove is gone”.

That is so Zavier. “Only my glove”. No stress, just the facts.

“Coach will send an email about everything,” he said.

Here’s what I know about baseball gloves:

Most people know every player has a special relationship with their glove. The hours spent breaking in a glove are endless. They start out stiff, uncomfortable, and awkward (kind of like I felt going back to work after being a stay-at-home mom). Poor gloves.

For the last two years, Zavier has worked on breaking in his Rawlings Heart of the Hide 11.5 glove. Countless catches and snags have molded its every crease and seam. He rubs oil on it when needed, doesn’t let anyone touch it (although his brother teases constantly), and in the off-season, he sets it in the same spot on the kitchen island for safekeeping. He has spent endless hours with that glove – and it was poised and ready for his senior year on the Varsity baseball team. Now it’s gone. And the season just started.

I look at this senseless and cowardly act of stealing as just sad. Not only did the thieves take the equipment, but they took the coveted commodity of time. The hours these boys spent molding their gloves, getting the bat tape just right on their bats, and caring for their baseball gear were also stolen.

So today Zavier dug up his old glove and is oiling it up as I type. Looks like it’s back in business. One thing Zavier still has is loads of love and care to give to his old Rawlings and hopefully a new glove sometime soon. For now, we’ll just move forward and (somewhat angrily) pray for the people who must have needed the equipment more than the team.

What I learned:

When I heard Zavier say “We” in “We were robbed” I immediately thought of the collective word. Usually “we” referred to our immediate family – and this time it was about his family, his beloved baseball family. These are the guys he spends hours with – every day. Working out, throwing, catching, hitting, fielding, laughing, discussing books, cleaning the field, keeping each other motivated, and maybe most importantly, seeing who can do the best impersonation of their Coach’s – long-drawn-out, calm yet stern voice. I would assume there are bonus points if you can remember his classic quotes like “You were running to the ball like a blind dog in a meat market.” That’s his “We”. His baseball family.

Like all families, there are wins and losses, joys and tragedies.

This time equipment was lost. It’s just gone. But it is just “stuff”. It can be replaced. And honestly, their spirit and love of the sport weren’t taken, and we all know sometimes in life that’s all you need to keep you going. Love.

The best news is they are all healthy and ready to play.

Final thought:

Moments like this bust me into being grateful for the day…a reminder that every morning we are at a new trailhead and can either take baby steps or big loud stomps on our day’s journey. None of us know what’s going to happen next. We can recognize the moments we loathe – saggy necks, clothes that don’t fit, baseball gloves being stolen, but we don’t need to sit in the grave with all the bad. We have a choice to look up. Look up at the sky and drink in the beauty of the day one deep breath at a time.

Let’s go Hillgrove Hawks!

Thanks for joining me,

~Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets, siblings

Once the teenage years hit, there’s no pause button

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

It wasn’t long ago when I could still pick up Zavier, our youngest. He’d nestle his head in the cozy crook of my neck and we’d sway back and forth savoring the moment.

Then one sunny day after picking him up from baseball practice, I looked into the rearview mirror and there it was…adolescence.

Oh, you’ll know it when you see it.

It looks a lot like the top of a teenager’s head. Yes, all I could see in that little rectangular reflection was a blue screen shining up at my son’s face and the curved top of a baseball cap.

Where was my little guy who would yell out the make and model of every car that passed and guessed how long it would take for every light to turn green? Why wasn’t he singing “Down by the Bay” loudly or recounting his practice play by play?

He was changing by the minute. One second we’re holding hands walking home from the bus stop recounting recess triumphs and the next he can’t wait to start weight lifting class and drive to high school with his brother and sister. Ugh.

Honestly, Zavier is a teenager who is quite independent. But he’s still just a kid. I mean, out of habit (and my keen sense of smell), I still have to remind him showering is not optional. And like a broken record, I futilely encourage flossing and turning clothes right side out. Luckily his love of play supersedes all. He still asks me to be his quarterback, play Yahtzee and read together…I’ll hold onto those moments as long as possible.

Time ticks by without even asking. So as I file the snuggly moments away in my heart, I remind myself to make every minute count. Zavier and I may see nose to nose now, but I still get my hugs — that’s usually when I whisper…”time to shower”. 

Here’s a great blurb I found from The Center for Resilient Leadership. I love the way it describes adolescence:

Adolescence is a period of transformation, not unlike a chrysalis changing into a butterfly. If you have never seen this process, it can be painstakingly difficult to watch. The butterfly gradually breaks free of his cocoon, pulling and pushing, stretching and contracting for what seems like an eternity before he finally emerges. If a benevolent onlooker decides to help the process along, the butterfly will likely die, because it is only through the struggle of metamorphosis that he gains the strength to survive on his own.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Other, Parenting/Running/Pets, siblings

Sacrifice: yours, mine and God’s

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Lenten Reflections #38: Throwback Thursday

Originally posted on Good Friday, March 2018

The photo above shows very patient fans at their brother’s baseball game…now that’s sacrifice.

Good Friday

With Opening Day for Baseball Season occurring all over the country and Good Friday Services on its heels, I thought about sacrifice. Yours, mine, and Jesus’s.

In that spirit, I asked our kids to think of a sacrifice they have made this past week.

  1. “Grades,” was the first response. “I did well on one test and sacrificed my grade on another.” My daughter also said that even though her swim meet was fun, she sacrificed study time.
  2. In baseball, our son said he sacrificed a fly ball for an RBI giving his team the lead in the game.
  3. Our middle guy said he has sacrificed mountain biking on the trails due to all the rain, which he added, is the right thing to do to keep up the trails.
  4. As parents, we sacrifice time, workouts, haircuts, and whatever it takes for our children. (I lied about workouts)
  5. As children (thank you sisters), we sacrifice our established lives, without qualms, to care for our aging parents. After all, they sacrificed more for us than we could ever imagine.

How many times in your life have you stepped away from an opportunity to allow someone else to enjoy a shot at glory? That’s sacrifice. When our boys sit through insanely long swim meets or dance recitals. That’s sacrifice. When our daughter reads the entire Babysitter Club Series through baseball, lacrosse, and soccer games in the scorching heat. That’s sacrifice. Forgoing sleep to finish this blog. That’s sacrifice. You, taking the time to read this. That’s sacrifice. (thank you)

Jesus dying on the cross, that is the Ultimate Sacrifice.

Dig Deep: Let your body rest today, fast if you can, and drink lots of water.

Lenten Challenge: Make a list of sacrifices you have made in the last week.

 

 

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Other, Parenting/Running/Pets, siblings

Little Leaguers lean on each other “Come on kid!”

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Blog #20

Throwback Thursday…Originally posted on March 29, 2018

In honor of Opening Day(s) everywhere…I am reposting a blog I wrote last year during baseball season and Lent.

All the stars were aligned for a baseball game tonight. The weather was ideal, the parking lot was nearly empty and unriddled with invented parking spaces, parents had their multi-cup-holding chairs set up, and the kids were spirited and ready.

While standing behind the backstop, I spoke to an elderly woman who said, “Oh, that must be your son.” Perhaps she heard me shout things like, “wait for your pitch, good cut,” you get the idea. Or maybe it was because I had a camera pointed directly at him. “Yes, it is” I responded. “My grandson is next to bat” she continued. We chatted further about how fortunate she feels to be able to watch the games and see her grandson. I added how I love hanging out near the dugout where I can hear conversations boys have about pitchers, snacks, and “lit” pro players. She said she wondered if the kids enjoyed the games as much as we did.

While we sat, we could hear one player in the dugout bellowing out textbook baseball chatter, “COME ON KID, you’ve got this, you’re going to do great kid, wait for your pitch kid.” The encouragement was nonstop and straight from the heart. The same player hollered inspirational words from center field to my son as he pitched. Slowly all the boys began chanting, and it was as if the players were virtually boosting each other on their shoulders with positive baseball jargon. As the game went on, there were errors, strikeouts, base hits, doubles, and fly balls. But with each play, the sentiment remained positive, and I couldn’t help but think the credit should go to the cheering player whose curly-hair hoisted his cap high on his head, much like his enthusiasm.

At the bottom of the last inning, I walked over to say goodbye to the sweet grandmother I met earlier. As a base hit brought our team ahead by three points, she admitted, “I can’t believe I get butterflies like the boys.” “Me too.” I agreed, telling her my heart rate zooms when the excitement builds for anything my kids do. Before she rolled her wheelchair away, she smiled and said, “You know, we’re both good moms.” “Thank you,” I replied, touched I had my own cheerleader. After all, moms need to raise each other up as well.

Honestly, the best part of baseball is watching the boys put their thoughts aside, play ball, endure each run and out, and lean on each other for support. Personally, I wish the curly-headed player would yell out to me each morning, “Come on kid, we can do this life thing kid, we got this kid!!”

Dig Deep: Especially when you get to the point of mental fatigue, keep your thoughts positive and do a steady state exercise (walk, run, swim, etc.) for at least 20 minutes.

Lenten Challenge: Model optimism with your families. Pray for positive words to lead you in conversation.