Another baseball blog?

This is another baseball blog. Or is it?

Jack had a baseball game today, and it was fairly typical. In three at-bats he had a base hit, a groundout, a fielder's choice that got a run home. His team was up 7-3 entering the 6th and final inning. At which point they handed him the ball and asked him to close it out.

A couple walks, a couple hits, a couple outs, and a couple of miscues later, it was 7-7. He struggled and was worked up; at one point the coach went out and seemed to be leading him in some breathing exercises. They got the third out and Jack stalked off the mound, obviously upset. We went down 1-2-3 in the bottom half of the inning and Jack went to the mound again. Started out strong -- got the first two outs on a strikeout and a little popup to him -- but then he got only a piece of a hard grounder back to him, and another miscue or two later in the field and they'd scored 2 runs and were up 9-7 and feeling happy. Jack and his teammates stalked angrily to the dugout, but I did hear one kid say, confidently, "C'mon, guys, let's hit!"

I saw Jack on the bench, downcast or frustrated or angry or all three, his coach talking to him. It's a scene I've seen during several pitching outings this year, either because he struggled with his control, gave up too many hits, or had too many errors made in the field behind him. But he'd be the third batter up this inning, so he'd at least get a chance at the plate.

First batter hit a ball to right center that went for a double. Second a single that made it 9-8. Jack came up, and the friend I was sitting with (one of his travel coaches, and who had worked with Jack on hitting just this week) said, Perfect time for a walk-off home run. I kind of smiled and said, yeah, OK, we just need a hit.

First pitch was a ball, maybe the first two pitches. Third pitch was a high strike, and Jack put a good swing on it. The ball soared in the air, high and deep to left. Seemed to hang up there forever. It was over the left fielder's head, landed on the warning track. As close to a homerun as he's ever come. Giddy, I looked to see the tying run score, except the runner on first had help up about 10 feet off the bag, unable to gauge -- I guess? It was strange -- whether it would be caught. Jack was in his back pocket (The first-base coach had to yell at him to slow down). That runner only made it to second.

Next batter had a hit to right center, and the game was tied and Jack was on third. There was a break in the action for some scoring discussion (the next batter had left the game early, and they were determining if an automatic out should be called; it was), and I noticed Jack on the third-base bag, doubled over, in exhaustion or emotion or I'm not sure. He'd score the winning run a few pitches later on a grounder to first; close play at the plate but he slid in and the catcher couldn't hold the ball and his team had won.

I remember celebrating as politely as I could -- it's hard because all his friends and their parents (our friends) are on opposing teams, and you know how conflicted their emotions are, because you were there three days ago -- high-fiving Emily, watching the players walk through the line saying good game and then going to their post-game huddles. Jack looked gassed; I'd learn later that 1) he'd got his knee stepped on by the catcher and had a bruise, and 2) he slammed his helmet after scoring in jubilation and got a comment from the other coach about it. I'm all about sportsmanship but knowing how bad Jack had felt just moments earlier about being responsible for blowing the lead, I'm sure his reaction was just unbridled emotion.

More even than I thought. In the huddle afterward, I could see he kind of had his face in his shirt. When it broke up, he grabbed his stuff and lit out for home. I caught up to him at the edge of the park, said Jack, hold up. He had a wide-eyed, hollow look; drained, overwhelmed. He said it was all just too much. Just too much. I put my hands on his shoulders, talked him down, said, You want to go home? He said yes. And we did.

The pressure, the emotion of blowing the lead, the emotion of delivering the big hit that was key to winning the game, scoring the winning run. Everything. Jack's been playing baseball a long time, but on the travel team, most of his teams, there are so many really good players, it's usually not all relying on him. Every once in a while, but not often. Not as much pressure, not as many big moments, not as many highs and lows as we'd had in the space of 15-20 intense minutes of baseball. He'd lost it, he'd won it, he'd had a meltdown and come as close as he's ever come in a game to hitting a home run under as much pressure as he's ever been under. On a baseball field, anyway.

It's just baseball, of course. But it's also life, because you're on display, trying to do your best, and a whole lot of people you know are watching. It's a lot for anyone. It's especially a lot for a 12-year-old kid.

At home, with an ice pack, and after huddling on his bed for a little bit with his Mom talking to him, and after a shower, he'd come down. I talked to him, told him I was proud of him. Told him he'd faced a lot of pressure and handled it and responded. Asked him what he was thinking before his last at bat. He said, "I was just raging...I went up there wanting to hit a homerun." He very nearly did.

Later that evening, we played Super Mario Kart on his Wii gaming system, as we'd done years and years ago, when he was 7 or 8, probably, maybe younger (I'll check the old blogs). Before he knew how tough baseball could be, and how it's full of highs and lows, sometimes all at the same time.

Game ball

My writing is pretty infrequent these days anyway. It's that time of year when work and baseball season tends to command a lot of time. And when the baseball games are bad, like Jack's last Thursday, I'm even less likely to want to write. Sometimes I write about them to get them off my chest. Sometimes I just fret and don't sleep well.

But last night was the baseball game was good. So I'll write about it, because you have to savor the good ones.

Jack's team was playing probably the best team in the league; seemed to have the most talent and hadn't lost a game yet. He'd been playing around the infield (he and three other travel baseball kids are the best players on it), but hadn't pitched yet. So we were a little surprised when they took the field and he went to the pitcher's mound to start. It was his first baseball start since, I don't know, maybe ever. Maybe once a couple of years ago. Rare.

He looked tall out there. Shot up an inch or two in the last couple of months, and kids just look bigger in baseball uniforms anyway. He started out a little rough, walking two of the first three batters and then giving up a bunt hit. But he settled down and got out of it with just one run scoring, striking out a couple of batters. Little fist pump as he got the last one.

Retired the side 1-2-3 in the second. Another little fist pump. To me when he pitches it's always a win when he finishes an inning without struggling and maybe getting replaced during it, so I was feeling pretty good.

Third inning it was back around to the top of the order, and he surrendered a hit on a little popup and a walk. The three best hitters on the team were coming up; all friends from his travel team. But he got one on a soft liner to second, and another on a swinging strikeout. Then he faced his buddy James, who he's been on a team with since Tee ball. I'm pretty sure it's the first time he's ever pitched to him in a game (in the first, James had the bunt). Got to 3-2, and then James fouled off like 4 in a row. I'm not sure I'd seen Jack throw 5 strikes in a row before, so I was concerned. But he struck him out swinging and got out of it.

I figured that would be it, but he pitched the fourth inning, too. Bottom part of the order and he got them all. You can only pitch four innings at this level so I knew he was done, and he got high fives from all his team and coaches coming off. He'd never pitched four innings in a game before.

In his last at-bat he had a solid hit to left, knocking in a run and putting another at third. Then he got caught in a rundown long enough for that run to score; just what he was supposed to do. Played the last two innings at short, his team won 5-1. I saw him get the game ball at the post-game huddle, his teammates clapping.

There were little moments, between innings and after the game. I saw him and a teammate doing a little dance to the between-innings music. Walking back to the dugout with his game ball, he was tossing it lightly in the air. Saw a friend of his from school giving him a hug after the game, I think he was glad they'd beaten the team they beat (which ironically enough they were teammates on the previous season).

I saw his coach after the game, said congrats. He complimented Jack and said, I talked to him before the game. Said I heard you were down after the game last Thursday. So what we're going to do is send you right back out there -- you're starting tonight. And he did great.

Jack and I walked to the car later, him smiling with his game ball. In the parking lot of the pizza place when we picked up dinner, he showed me how he adjusted his throwing motion after the first inning, when he was a little high on a lot of pitches. Then we went home, ate pizza, and he did his homework, like any other night. Baseball or non-baseball.

A fun night. You've got to enjoy the good ones.