“My life is allllll about baaaseballlll!! I hate it!!” wailed my teen-aged seven year old daughter the last two games we brought her to. I tried explaining that most kids enjoy family trips to the ballpark and it’s up to her to make the best of it. My logic was just met with more wailing and flailing. Funny, her enjoyment of the game is directly proportionate to how much money we let her spend on treats and in the store. Yesterday she returned to the seats with a little plaque with an Austin Kearns baseball card mounted behind plastic. Little Chatter managed to chase down and snare his first foul ball all by himself without someone handing it to him. I stood on tiptoes peering over the melee of fans racing toward it and grinned as his head popped up out of the fray with hand victoriously thrust upward with shiny new ball in hand!
Yet two weeks into the season and my kids are already staging a revolt on baseball — and they don’t even pay attention to wins, losses, errors, blown saves, injuries, etc. etc. They feel like three hours of the day have been robbed from them. Actually, the boy seems to be getting better about enjoying it while the princess retreats into smugness and pouting. Her annoyance that the game went into “free baseball” yesterday was felt by everyone in our section. “Now it’s the 11th inning?!?!?! Can we gooooooo???!” Of course, her irritation was well-founded since in the top of the 9th, I had told her the game would end in a few minutes. Oops! So short of going broke bribing her into enjoying a day at the ballpark, is this fixable?
Justin Maxwell is my daughter’s autograph buddy thanks to spring training. Maybe that will perk her up when he joins the team after being recalled following Bernadina’s broken ankle in yesterday’s game. I think my kids have been pretty darn lucky and had experiences that most kids don’t get. They’ve been in the radio broadcast booth. They’ve met manager Manny Acta. They’ve watched a movie on the flat screen tvs in the President’s Club and taken in games from catered suites. And they have no appreciation for any of it. Imagine if I actually worked in baseball and god forbid they were forced to go to every home game! The horror! I’ll just get her to like it through constant immersion. Either that or she’ll just resign to the fact that it’s part of her life. She’ll buck it until she grows up and suddenly has this obsessive impulsion to follow baseball herself.
I have turned into my mother! The transformation is complete.