I’m parked under a big weeping williow tree last night watching a game that got its fare share of scattered showers. All during that game I hear a youngster, about 12 years old, complain about not pitching.
“I’ve trained hard for the last two years.” He said to a teammate. “I got two really good pitches, I can reach the catcher with no problem, I can throw as hard as I want, I’m really good at this.”
His teammate had this on-again off-again look of sympathy, but I could tell his teammate could care less.
As the game goes on, one pitcher after another is pulled and another youngster takes the field – but this one sits.
Finally he gets into the game as a third baseman, much to his disapointment. Add to this, he gives a disgusting glance now and then in the direction of the coach who sent him to cover third.
After the game, the handshakes and the collecting things moved to getting into the cars and leaving. As the younsters start to walk pass me, the one complaining all during the game of not pitching noticed me. As he walked by me and others, he said… and I quote… “ I could’ve pitched better,” or something like that. Followed up with… “My dad is such a jerk!”
I couldn’t help but think to myself … “yup, there goes a future pitcher if I ever saw one.”