The Natural National
Aug. 1, 2010
These days it seems if you turn on ESPN you’ll hear someone on SportsCenter say, "If the season ended today..." but for a couple hundred special ball players that phrase rings a little truer. This past Saturday was the last week of games for central Ohio’s Miracle League.
Annette tried to get me to sign Nathan up before the season started, but I balked at the thought. I was worried about how he would be able to participate or wondered if he’d get any enjoyment out of it. I’ve always been an athletic person and I would love to share sports with Nathan, but I didn’t want to push him into something he only did because we wanted him to do it.
Another PMG parent who coaches one of the teams, tried and tried to get us to come out, but still I hesitated. Then on a week when our original plans fell through, we decided to see what it was and to cheer on the other little guy we knew. When we got there we saw National’s Coach Becky but her little guy wasn’t able to make it. Still, it took us less than 2 minutes to love everything about the league and the experience it brings to so many kids.
Every player is assigned a buddy who looks after them in the dugout and around the base, then plays with them out in the field. Each child has their own nickname, struts onto the field while their name is announced. Then they turn and look to the flag in the outfield as the National Anthem is played. The home team takes the field and the visitors each get their turn at bat.
They announcer introduces each one by name and nickname and normally has a made-up baseball stat that makes them look better than the guys in the big leagues. There are no balls and strikes, the players can swing at pitches from their coach or hit off a tee, whichever suits them best. Each batter makes contact, as best he/she can and off to first base they go. Each batter hits a single until the last batter in the order who has the honor of hitting a grand slam. The teams switch and the home team takes their turn at the plate. There’s a scoreboard in right field, but magically (regardless of how many players are on the team that day,) the score ends up tied.
The second inning the lineup is reversed, but the concept is still the same. Single after single, batters round the bases and celebrate as they cross home plate. In between the top and bottom of the inning they have the second inning stretch, where everyone stops and sings Take Me Out to the Ballgame. After the home team finishes the bottom of the inning all the players go out for the handshakes and come back to treats in the dugout, just like any Little League game.
Nathan was invited to be a pinch hitter the first week for our friend who wasn’t able to be there. A huge smile broke out as he was wheeled to plate, just like the other kids. He quickly reached out for the bat like he knew, just what to do. With my help he got his first hit and we raced off to first base. (He was in the stroller so he got the easy way around the bases that game.) We travelled around the bases and when we got back to home (with all the people cheering) a big grin grew even bigger, thinking he was big stuff.
While Annette was in Uganda, we attended another game, and Coach Becky inserted him in the lineup. This week we had his walker, as I wanted to see how he would do being at the other kids’ level and feeling even more a part of the action. Not only would Nathan get to bat, but he was put in as the grand slam hitter. Nathan "The Natural" lived up to his name, grabbing his lumber and giggling all the time while at the plate. It was a simple hit, and he didn’t do much walking much around the bases, but still he enjoyed every second of the attention.
This week we went out in the field for "defense." He would walk around and chase after some of the kids. Then suddenly, he showed how much like his old man he really is. Nathan decided that he likes batting better than fielding and he took off walking (nearly running) for home plate. The batter had hit and was heading to first, he thought if he got there fast enough, they’d let him bat again.
I did catch him before he made it to the batter’s box, and we headed back to the outfield. Typical Nathan, he didn’t complain, but when the other team completed their lineup and the backstop was vacated, he raced to home plate. Reversing the order, he was the first to hit, but he was ready way before the rest of the team or the coach. He was in his "stance" faster than the announcer could flip the page on the scorecard.
Nathan got his hit and I had to pry the bat from his fingers as we circled the bases. This time when rounding 3rd, heading for home, he thought he got to bat again. We went back to the dugout and joined the rest of the team, and participated in all of the other activities without incident, but it was evident that a future ball player was definitely in the making.
The day after Annette returned home, we got an e-mail saying if we could make it out to the early (9:15 a.m.) game, they had an extra shirt they could give to Nathan. We didn’t like the thought of mooching a spot, but the idea of being a true part of the team was too great to pass up. We live on the complete opposite side of town from where the field is. It’s almost a 45 minute drive out there, but still we wouldn’t let that get in the way.
Nathan was given the shirt, and it got me excited even if he didn’t know the difference. It’s a child’s small shirt, but I had to laugh, as across his chest where the Nationals logo was proudly displayed, on Nathan all you could see was ation. He’s now unofficially number 5 on the roster but number one in our hearts.
This week we were unable to attend due to an event for Annette and myself, believe it or not. I also didn’t want to intrude on their trophy day. We look forward to next season, where we are sure to shed our Free Agent status and be a more official member of the Nationals. Something tells me, there will be plenty of desire to work on that swing between now and then. And for one little guy, a little practice will make for a perfect family day for many weeks to come.
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