How to know when Softball is not Your Daugther's Sport - and the Day Coach T Retired

Family dates are great. The problem is, we still haven't figured out which is better; the actual event, or the drive to the event.

Such was the case last night. On the way to "Flashbacks at the Movies", Brittany, our daughter, decided the topic of conversation would be regrets. She went first. "If I had it to do all over again, I would have not stopped playing basketball sophomore year." Justin shouts out, "Lacrosse, I would have played Lacrosse."

Justin's girlfriend, Jess, shared her love for softball. At this, my husband pipes up says, "Brittany used to play softball". A sudden outburst of laughter from us Ortiz's, struck curiosity in Andrew and Jess like no other.

Silence filled the car as Britt began to tell her "Flashbacks in the Ortiz Family" tale. I can't even begin to do justice to her story-telling style, so I won't try. Besides, it's one of those "you had to be there", kind of tales. Nevertheless, we learned a valuable lesson that I believe would help you in determining what sport fits your young child best.

Stages to watch for:

1) When your daughter strikes out at T-ball all season long; take note.

2) When your daughter is in the outfield and she puts her mitt on top of her head and alternates dancing and picking daisies; take note.

3) When your daughter is the first one in history to be given six opportunities to hit the ball in one turn; take note.

4) When your daughter is given the "Most Improved Batter" award for hitting her first ball in the last game of the second season; take note.

This is only a suggestion, but you might consider encouraging your daughter to try something different at stage two.

We did get a good laugh out of this. Jess was amazed that we never got frustrated with Britt. (Unfortunately, she had a different experience.) Nor did we get frustrated with Justin on his journey to finding out his niche in the world of sports--I'll get to him in a moment. First, I have to conclude Britt's story.

Okay, so softball wasn't her thing and as it turns out, either was dancing--but we won't go there. I'd rather talk about her glory days as a basketball player; now this was her sport. It took no time at all to realize she had a gift for the game. She was small, fast on her feet, and she had a swift hand. There were very few players she couldn't steal the ball away from--it came natural. Her ability to read people was a skill; one she didn't know she had until she played this game. We had a blast watching her. It should be known that we had a blast watching her pick dai--err, play softball as well. It takes a lot to get me angry, but one thing that always got me was the parents who would yell at their children. These kids were crushed and you could see it on their faces.

Still driving, we switch gears and focus on Justin.

He played T-ball and baseball for three years. Nothing weird or exciting for him here, so he moved on to basketball. He tried his best, bless his little heart, but dribbling and running at the same time was a bit challenging. His team was the worst in the district two years in a row. I still think the quality of coaching was partly to blame for ending the careers of these would be NBA stars. To his credit, the coach did the best he could. He was the only volunteer and even though I helped keep the boys in line at practice, I didn't know much about the sport. Art knew less than me. We were still learning the in's and out's of the game watching Britt.

Not being able to take much more, Justin decided to retire from basketball the day I became coach for a day--that's right, I said I, meaning me. "Just call me Coach T, thank you very much.

Coach "X" was not able to make it to a game, so unless the boys had a coach, they wouldn't be able to play. In Order for you to appreciate this scene, I have to take you back just a bit. My boys would be playing the best team in the league. Those third grade boys were known to have 40 - 55 point games. Yeah, told you. Worse than this, Coach Brian was also my daughter's coach and his fifth grade girls were on their way to a third championship season.

OH! One more thing; we live in a small town and every body goes to these games--this means E-V-E-R-Y-B-O-D-Y!

Back to game day. The boys are listening to me, which was fear # one, because they never listened to Coach "X". I believe it's the mom factor. Third grade boys know they are supposed to listen to mommies.

Of course, we lost the game 4 - 44; it was a sad day. God bless the hearts of everybody there. They cheered my boys on and thanked me for stepping up just so the boys could play. I retired along with J and we left this sport to his sister.

What is my point in all of this? Parents shouldn't be so hard on their young children. They need support and time to explore what they like best. We should always speak encouraging words, and never put them down--ever, but especially not in front of other people. They will blossom in their own time and who knows, maybe sports won't be their thing. It might be art, or music, or dance. After basketball, J played soccer for two seasons. It took all of this for him to realize his love was dirtbikes. Whatever it is, the worst thing we can do as parents is try to live our youth through them and push them in a direction they do not want to go.

We arrived at the mall all too quickly. The laughter in the car far exceeded the laughter during the movie, but we had a blast nonetheless.

Thanks for listening

Teresa Ortiz