Way Out in Right Field

My son likes sports. I taught him to like sports, just like my dad taught me. My dad especially taught me about baseball. He made sure I knew the fundamentals and, even though I'd never be a star athlete, I enjoyed little league and could usually manage to put the bat on the ball. I'm happy to pass on this love to my son. I just wish it was the only thing I passed on.

My son also inherited my short attention span. This was always a problem for me, especially when playing sports. Here's the thing; right field is a long way from home plate. And in the early years of little league, lots of kids can't get the ball out of the infield. So if you play right field a lot, you can assume it's because you're awesome. You can also assume that you'll have plenty of time to use your imagination.

Grown-ups always talk about imagination like it's a good thing, but they never really want you to use it. They'll say, "Oh, he has a GREAT imagination!" But then when they're telling you to clean your room (or something lame like that) they don't appreciate the fact that evil super-villains are invading from another dimension located INSIDE YOUR CLOSET!

Coaches are grown-ups. They don't appreciate that you were thinking about dragons when a baseball drops next to you in right field. How do I know? I heard about it. From a friend.

My mind was always full of superheroes and that definitely does NOT seem to skip a generation. I used to stand out there in right field, or sit on the bench, waiting for my turn at bat, and think about superheroes. My son has taken it to the next level. He can be in the middle of the action during a soccer game while also imagining that he's Iron Man. That's pretty impressive.

Jono is actually really good at soccer. I know because I've seen him play in some of the few moments when he wasn't distracted. But if you’ve ever come to one of his games, chances are you thought he was pretty bad at soccer. That's because he likely wasn't playing soccer during that game. I can almost guarantee you that he was being Iron Man.

But here's the thing... superheroes and sports don't mix. Don't believe me? Just ask this guy:

You can’t save the world and score a goal at the same time. Unless you’re David Beckham, in which case you’re probably too busy being a jerk to read this blog, anyway. (Seriously… the guy is rich, famous, a sports icon, and married to a Spice Girl, and he still seems to be irritated all the time. Jerk.)

Jono is fast and coordinated. He can drive to the goal. He can aim a pass. But he usually doesn’t. He usually points his palms backwards in an impressive imitation of Iron Man and “flies” around the field.

Once, in practice, Jono made a great drive to the goal only to stop in his tracks when he saw his own shadow. He then proceeded to make a shadow puppet of a bird with his hands. The other parents were so jealous.

Jono’s first season of soccer was quite an ordeal for me. I stood on the sidelines every game, promising myself I wouldn’t become one of those crazy soccer parents. I failed almost every time. I felt the urge to “coach” from the sidelines. I felt compelled to yell useful tidbits like “play soccer” and “PLEASE play soccer!” After every game I told him I was proud of him. And I was. And I didn’t need to worry. He’s learned more about soccer by playing at school with his friends than he ever did that first year in little league. It just had to be fun before he’d learn it. I shouldn’t have been such a grown-up.

It’s fun taking Jono to Royals games.  You may find that hard to believe, but I was born and raised a Royals fan and I think I actually enjoy losing at this point. “Fun.” On those nights in Kauffman Stadium, Jono is always watching a different game than I am. He never knows how many outs there are or who’s pitching. But he always seems to think Eric Hosmer is ready to use his super strength to knock a ball into outer space. And who am I to say he’s wrong? I remember how the game looks from right field.