Young Man and All Star

In my last post, I wrote vaguely about the family transitions we are experiencing. Today, I'll write about one involving Little League All Stars and the metamorphosis of my ten year old son.

My son made the All Star team this season and was the starting catcher for the nine and ten year olds. He had a great season, loves the game, and respects his coach. The All Star team brought together new team mates, some of whom up front were strutting their stuff in a way that is typical but inappropriate. My son was challenged in a way that he hasn't been in the past. He had to stand up for his values, home schooling, and faith in a more mature way.

Going into the world as a young man is no easy ride. My husband has been steadfast in his support. But dad hasn't had to do it alone. My son wrote another athlete, a seventeen year old Catholic home-educated young man, asking him for advice. The reply he received was priceless. Good man to good man support is priceless. My son handled the challenges well, better than his mother, and before my eyes I saw glimpses of the man God is calling him to be.


After sticking to his guns, much practice as a team, and an earned respect and friendship among the players, my son was confident and eager to begin tournament play. I sat on the sidelines, both literally and figuratively. I cheered, reassured, purchased enough sports drink for a small army, and stomped on the ground when the ump made a bad call.

Two moments from the tournament stand out most in my mind. The first happened when four teams lined up on the first and third base lines, eagerly awaiting the tournament to begin. Introductions were made, fans clapped, then we were asked to stand for the National Anthem. My son, in his catcher gear, put his hand to his heart, gave full attention to the flag, and sang. No fidgeting. No looking at his feet. No waving at his family. Time stopped for me. My eyes welled with pride and a bittersweet realization that this was no longer a little boy.

The second moment came when my son's team lost in the semi-finals when in the bottom of the last inning, the other team came up with a run to squeak past us for the win. I never thought I would feel so broken-hearted. My mind knows "this is just a Little League game," but my heart had grown to care for all the players and their families. Even more, my heart was growing in deeper love with the young man catching. I watched him hold his head high, congratulate the other team, and reassure his team mates. He thanked his coaches, thanked his family, and thanked God for the opportunity. He choked back tears, a young man, a true All Star. He choked the tears back much better than his mom.