Baseball, Hot Dogs, & Apple Pie.. The American Pastime..

Okay before you stop reading this because you think I’m about to write about how proud I am to be an American, then keep reading because you are way off base (no pun intended). Although I am proud to be an American, I'm even more proud of my son and daughter and what they did this past weekend. I know you've all heard the saying baseball, hot dogs and apple pie... it’ s just about as American as you can get. It's what being American is all about. Hell, I’ve heard that saying hundreds of times in my life, but it’s never really done anything for me. It's never moved me like I’ve seen it move people. Its meaning was so foreign to me. Growing up in my neighborhood, one could say "Kickball, Bologna, and a Push Up from the Ice Cream truck was as American as one could get. That's what I'm talking about!!!

However, this past weekend, my son and daughter had their opening day for T-ball. They are both on teams called the "Red Sox “and they both wear the number 1 on their jerseys. Trust me this was purely coincidental. After a long opening day ceremony that morning, I had to get the kids ready for their games. My wife had a previous engagement so she wasn't able to help. Gotta hate it when that happens. My daughter did a great job. She had two hits, scored two runs, and stopped a ground ball while attempting to play short stop. Not bad for a three year old, not to mention she’s the only girl on the team. Outside of telling her to stay focused and remember her baseball ready stance, I think she has all the makings of an Olympic gold medal athlete who just so happens to play baseball for a hobby. You Go Girl. So after her game the gang was hungry. I made the biggest mistake in asking "What do you guys want to eat?” "I want a cheeseburger with mustard"..."and I want chicken nuggets with ketchup." Okay we’re at a baseball field, not a shopping mall. Our choices are very limited... so I say, "let’s go get some hot dogs." Ahhhh, was all I heard, but that soon changed after I bribed, I mean suggested candy bars for desert. Man, the power of sugar sure is simply amazing.

While we are enjoying our “oh so delicious” hot dogs, my wife and youngest son arrive just in time for the next game. Okay you guys sit here, finish eating, and I'll go and check on the team to see if anyone is here. Well, to my surprise not only are they here, they are lining up heading out on the field to warm up. Immediately, I run back over to the concession stand, and yell at my son who has just started eating his hot dog. "We have to go, shove that hot dog in your mouth, grab your gear and let's go." So here we are, running through the crowds, my son has one shoe on and one shoe off, he's got a mouth full of hot dog, his little sister is crying cause she's can't sit and finish eating, Mom is grabbing the rest of our dinner and our youngest son cause he ain’t about to walk (hell come to think of it he ain’t about to crawl either), and daddy’s having flashbacks from the time he was late to a game when he played in high school. It wasn't pretty. Now I’m not sure if the coaches noticed my son being late or just didn’t say anything. Either way he slid on the field and started warming up with the rest of the team. Soon, afterwards the Ump yelled “play ball” and we were under way. I'm standing next to the dugout giving him some last minute instructions, while the coach is calling out names to go in the game. To my surprise he doesn't call my son’s name. He and another kid are sitting on the bench and I’m in shock. “What the”.. was my first response after looking at my son who has no clue why he's still in the dugout and everyone else is on the field. So being the all-knowing-black man having a baby- dad that I am, I tell him to stay focused and be patient. I quickly make my way over to my wife in the stands and say what every dad says at this moment in life... “I can't believe they didn't start our son. He’s better than half the kids on this freaking team.” Her reply, “calm down, it’s gonna be okay.” Okay my a@%$, I’m thinking. What the hell are all the practices for, if he’s just going to sit on the freaking bench? I was just about to lose it and my wife goes “Look.” And before my very eyes… the baseball gods have heard my bitchin and performed a miracle. My son is getting his glove on to go outfield. That’s right he’s heading into the game. Miraculously, some kid had yelled out, “I gotta go pee,” right before the game started and they needed to replace him. Thank you baseball gods! But I’m wondering, technically, does that count as my son starting the game? Mmmmmm. Well, I know one thing, he never came out of the game after that. By the time the game had ended, he had played 1^st base, gotten 2 outs in one inning, had 2 hits, 1 RBI, and scored 1 run. Now check that out! I think we might have a Satchel Page on our hands. Could it have gotten any better you ask? Yes, it could. He was awarded the game ball afterwards. Talk about a Blackman Having ‘a Baby walking around the ball park peacock proud with a grin from ear to ear, and you would be talking about me.

So now I know you’re saying “I don’t get it” what is the connection with the whole baseball, hot dog, and apple pie thing?’ Must I break it down for ya? On the drive home, it hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s not the game of baseball. It’s the experience! You see, it could have been dodgeball that my kids were playing. We could have been eating ham sandwiches. It’s not what you are doing that counts. It’s the building of memories that comes with spending an entire day focused solely on your kids. It’s being there to see them perform at their best (or worst) but being there nonetheless! It’s the look on their faces when they realize they’ve done something cool and you were there to see it! It’s the ear to ear grin when you are there to give them a high five afterwards. You see, that day we played baseball and ate hotdogs. But the apple pie came in the form of me being proud of my kids. And trust me it doesn’t get any more American than that!