We’ve played two baseball games in the past 72 hours. Which leaves me with plenty of time to ponder whatever life lesson I’m supposed to be learning from my baseball-loving son.
On Saturday, we played the toughest team in the league. It also happens to be the same team we played on last year. I’m forever grateful to the universe for changing that, but it makes those games very emotional for all of us. I’m thankful one of the moms on the team is a nurse, because my blood pressure reached the danger zone during the game.
Saturday the team played well. The first two innings, we kept the other team to two runs. That was quite the accomplishment. And (small mom brag moment), my kid made a double play in the first inning. It was great.
We lost that game 11-2, but we walked away feeling like we had done a great job. It was a good game.
Tonight we played a team we’ve beaten every time previously. We won tonight again, 15-13. But even though we walked away with the win, we didn’t play well. The boys were having a tough time and made a lot of errors. Their hearts weren’t in the game, and neither were their heads. There wasn’t much teamwork going on out on the field.
We walked away feeling like we hadn’t done well, even though we won. It wasn’t a good game.
Tonight I learned how the score doesn’t actually reflect the game itself. Baseball is all about statistics — wins and losses, runs and errors. But the stats don’t show that kid in the uniform walking away from a loss with a smile on his face. Or the mom who is proud of him for doing a good job, no matter what he faced on the field.
Tonight I learned you can win a game in your heart, no matter what the scoreboard says.