{This entry was originally posted on March 25, 2015}
It’s that time of year where two or three nights a week you’ll find me in the bleachers, cheering on the Cobras as if they
were the Atlanta Braves. In between innings, I like to look around at the other families. I recognize the moms and dads of kids Caleb has played baseball with in the past. Ironically, as a communications professional, I can recall their children’s names, but not theirs. That’s Isaiah’s dad. Wilson’s mom.
On Tuesday, while staring probably uncomfortably long at one mom, for the life of me I couldn’t recall her name but I knew a lot about their family. During those two to three months of a sports season you share life. Practices, games and tournaments bring you together regularly during the week. You chat during warm-ups, learning what neighborhood they call home, how many other siblings there are and where their kids go to school. You trade secrets about how to endure long weekend tournaments and the best way to pack snacks. You lament awful calls by refs and umpires, certain their view of the game is drastically different than your own.
And then the season is over. You pack up your cooler and equipment and move on. Six months later you end up in line together at the concession stand. Faces are familiar and there’s the “My Joey was on your son’s team last season” line. You smile and nod and exchange pleasantries. No one calls the other by first name because it was a short season and you don’t remember.
This Saturday, in the midst of a baseball tournament, my super sweet, handsome, smart and athletic boy will turn 9. And I realize we are living in the short seasons. I confess his first six months of life were so difficult and felt like a million days instead of around 180. Looking back though it’s all a blur. I mean, how did we get to 9 already? We are embarking on his last year in the single digits. Other than turning five and being able to start kindergarten, this is his first big age milestone. It’s all double digits from here. But each season is a short one.
Though the seasons are short, I have to make the most of each one. Because now Caleb is old enough to make the friendships that he carries over into the long seasons. I have to make a point of knowing these parents for longer than a season because there are many innings to come. And these families have such cool stories to share.
Last season Caleb played spring ball with a boy named John Mark. Aside from the fact that his name is cool (Caleb was supposed to be John Riley, but that’s another story for another day), his family was amazing. John Mark has four siblings, two younger biological sisters and two older brothers who had been adopted from another country. I am always amazed at families who choose to add to their own families through adoption. The love and compassion they exhibit are traits we could all learn from. I loved those Saturdays standing with John Mark’s mom and hearing about how they came to adopt their two older sons. She stared stories of struggle as they acclimated to a new country and a new family, as well stories of love as their new siblings embraced them.
While not every family will have that storyline, each is unique. And at this point, these are likely the parents who will be standing by you at middle school graduation, celebrating the win of a big game, posing with your son or daughter in prom pictures, and let’s be honest, maybe showing up at the same time as you to the police station when someone in the group made a not-so-good choice.
Now is the time to remember names, not just faces. It’s a short season, but not shallow. Create depth. Invest. Embrace. Soon the season will be a goner just like that long ball over the right field fence.
Phil says
Spot on and well said! Having almost finished the short seasons and the longer season (mine are 21, 19 and 16), I can attest to the sweetness (yes, tinged with bitter) found in “doing life” with many of the same families from kindergarten through HS graduation and into college, be it in the neighborhood, at school events, on the soccer sidelines, at Boy Scouts, swim meets, etc. We became friends because of our children, and I wonder how many of us will stay close after our encounters aren’t so scheduled. But for now, it’s right to cherish and savor the experience of walking out these growing-up and sending-off years together.