Sometimes I think I am secretly a New Yorker at heart.

(I realise that can't be true.)

I went to J's games tonight and it was a lot of fun.  He asked me at least three time this week if I could come and I told him I probably could but needed to check with his dad.  Instead of saying that it was fine with him or that it was up to me like he usually does, Dad said yes and sounded not unhappy about it.

It's the playoffs and because Wednesday's game was canned on account of thunderstorms, tonight was a double-header.  It was exciting.  There were other games going on at the same time in neighbouring diamonds so the general excitement of playoff season was even bigger.

When we first pulled in, my brain started throwing a tantrum.  It refused to go.  It insisted that it would fold its arms, pull a pouty face and plop down right in the middle of the grocery store because it didn't want to take one more step.  From 6.30 in the AM I was around people; I was working and by the time 5.50pm showed its haggard face, I was zombified.

I literally sat in the passenger seat and stared a thousand yards into the distance, seatbelt still on, ignoring the bustle around me to get cleats and gloves and bags...

My friend asked if I was coming in a way that didn't sound sarcastic-ish...I think he truly wondered whether I'd completely changed my mind.  I sputtered that I would be over there shortly.  He says, "Okaaay.." in a strange way so I sputter even worse that I "just need to not be around people for a bit".

Fantastic moment of [big exhale] that I could just declare a need like that and have it understood.  They carried on and left me in the parking lot.  I sat on the grass with my head in my hands and eyes screwed shut.  Not exactly sure what that was about but it was what my id was screaming for.

Those little five minutes where no one was around, no one was talking to me, no one needed me, they went a decent distance.

Then on the bleachers my head was still in my hands on and off between batters or pitches and I contemplated throwing some earbuds in to have music block the talking around me and to help me feel like I could control my environment.

This is not what I meant to write about at all.  I meant to say that it was a rough start and I almost tapped out but I am so glad and so grateful that I was able to stay for the long haul, all the way to 22.30.


I made some new friends: the siblings of one player, his mom and then another player's mom.  It felt unprecedented.  I had taken an hour's excursion to go meet a friend that needed urgent help and that twenty-minute walk back into town, brief chat where I was all listen, opportunity to bless with an Iced Capp well received, a fifteen-minute wait in an airconditioned Tim Hortons, triumphant return of the friend (who had borrowed my keys) and another twenty-minute walk back into the park, all of that did very well for filling my tank. 

I had planned to stay on the bleachers for every inning of both games but I'm deeply grateful that a need pulled me away for so long.  It helped.


I was friendly and outgoing; enjoying the kids - especially the littlebert who laughed when I told him my name was Fred but called me by it for the rest of the evening - enjoying the other adults including me sporadically in their chatter and enjoying that all of this people time felt natural enough and not intensely draining.


Near the end of the second game, the other two moms and I would do the Wave for each player that reached base.  Mom the Middle would yell the player's name and Mom at the Far End would start the Wave.  We all participated; the recipient baserunner would grin, laugh, blush or all three; and we would then laugh. 

I don't even care.  Still in my camp shirt, combatting insects and gross clammyness of dew and low temperatures, combatting fatigue and brainlessness I was having a great Friday night.  I was into the game and into the evening and I didn't even bother taking the back of my brain elsewhere to occupy it.


The team was doing well so we didn't even have to be creative with our encouragement.  The three of us were getting sillier and louder but I think our sincerity was evident and the team's morale tracked upward with us. After the second or third Wave the 3B coach (who also happened to be my friend/the kids' dad) turned and explained how he thought the team had had quiet spectators all season UNTIL NOW and said as genuine a "thank you" as I've ever heard him say.  He does have a soft heart toward children and instinctively looks out for them. He seemed a little moved as a coach (and presumably as a dad) to be hearing the support and seeing how it was affecting his players. That coachly nod was kind encouragement.



My friend and I were overall fine which was a huge relief because, to put it simply, we can be pretty up-and-down.  We were both relaxed and interacted like reasonably good friends, exchanging snippets here and there like an inside joke or jabs or conversation blips (maybe like text-messages if you know the person well, where a comment or question can be thrown out at any time with no need of a preamble or follow-up?), but mostly talked to other people because we know we get to see one another all the time. I was happy to not be obligated in that way but also to have a glad-you're-here/happy-to-be-here connection. Zero tension.


Taking my cue from my friend's joke-not-joke to B that they would bring blow-horns to tomorrow's game, I said I would bring pompoms and I am not joking.  He said they'd pick me up.  Wherever it's right, I'm happy, grateful and humbled (among other things) to be a part of this family.  For a day where I had more than a few moments of feeling overwhelmed by how much I love these boys - wanting to just blurt it out - this was a perfect ending.