There are a few days that incite happiness for baseball fans. For some, it’s opening day. For others, it’s truck day or when pitchers and catchers report to spring training. This is my favorite week of baseball for two reasons: the Home-Run Derby and the MLB Draft.
To most, the MLB Draft is not newsworthy. For people who closely follow collegiate baseball, it’s huge! Every year, players we’ve watched grow during their college years get the call that will change their lives. Last year, Kolton Ledbetter, who coached Michael during camp sessions at the Newport Gulls, was drafted by the Rays. This week, the Oriels drafted Ethan Anderson, a player we watched during his first year of college. Collegiate players have changed Michael’s view of baseball. He interacts with and watches them intently, observing how they interact with each other and handle errors- their own and their teammates. He watches them eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the dugout, cheers for them as they play in holey baseball pants, and talks to them about their experiences, taking in any advice they offer him applicable to his journey. He brings them packages of cookies so they have treats before the game. Watching players we’ve known get the call that will change their lives forever is beyond exciting. The draft represents the opportunity to make your wildest dreams come true. It’s the reward for the years of practice, dedication, and sacrifice.
Honestly, the All-Star Game doesn’t matter to me. I’ll watch it, but I don’t follow it closely. For me, the magic happens the night before the All-Star Game in the Home Run Derby. Watching the Home Run Derby while the draft is still in progress makes it even better. These players swinging for the rafters were, not too long ago, players getting the call explaining they had the opportunity to achieve their wildest dreams. Being selected for the home run derby signifies reaching the highest performance level of the few people provided the opportunity to play in the MLB.
As much as I enjoy the first spring training games and the playoffs, this is my favorite week of the baseball season. I love hearing news of collegiate players earning an opportunity to make it to the show and watching our favorite MLB players show the height of their talents. This week represents everything we try to teach Michael about life: work hard, learn from mistakes, and strive to improve.
A few weeks ago, we went to see Stephen Kellogg’s “Stand Up and Sit Down” show, in which he combines stand-up and musical performances. You are missing out if you have never attended a Stephen Kellogg show; his lyrics are profound, and he seems genuinely lovely. Michael put it best when he said, “He seems like someone you would invite to sit around the fire and drink White Claws with you and Dad.” (We are now White Claw people because our middle-aged stomachs no longer tolerate good craft beers.) That night was our fifth Stephen Kellogg show. We made a night of it, visiting a local brewery for beer and BBQ before the show. When we arrived, we were overjoyed to see chairs; we would not need to stand all night! At the show’s beginning, SK assured us, “I’ll have you back on your couches, watching Netflix and scrolling your phones before you know it.” His shows begin with a montage of clips, one from a TED Talk he delivered years ago describing his desire to pursue music. During the talk, he quoted The Office: “It’s better to be at the bottom of a ladder you want to climb than at the top of a ladder you don’t.” I could see Michael, who referred to SK as the “lovesick guy with a guitar,” sitting up a little straighter and paying attention.
As always, the show was terrific. Mike and I noted that he played a few of our favorite songs, including “Thanksgiving,” harder than usual. On the ride home, we talked to Michael about the show. Michael, who had made fun of SK’s lyrics about love, is coming around. A few things have changed his mind, including an observation a few weeks earlier: While driving home from Thanksgiving weekend in Maine, we stopped for gas. Two cars were clearly doing the split custody child hand-off in the corner of the parking lot. Michael has friends whose parents are divorced and is familiar with “at my dad’s” or “at my mom’s,” but this was the first time he witnessed the switch in real life. He sat, speechless. “Are you glad you have parents who still go to Smoochville?” I asked, referring to Michael’s teasing when Mike and I kissed. Michael was affected by witnessing this interaction, mentioning it a few times over the next few days. This brings us back to the latest show we attended. SK talked about success and family at length. I could see Michael absorbing his words. SK’s words about success and following dreams struck a chord with Michael. We’ve talked to Michael about high school for the past few months. His district offers several career paths. While Michael’s top dream is to replace Bryce Harper on the Phillies, he is also realistically interested in business. He’s currently taking a business elective and is enjoying every aspect of it. He talks about starting his own business or working in marketing or promotion for a company, preferably in a sports-related field. I am a teacher. In seventh grade, I knew I wanted to spend my days surrounded by words. I (usually) love my job and cannot imagine doing anything else. I am also aware that if I did not marry an engineer, I would not have enough money to pay for the equipment and lessons that allow Michael to follow his aspirations. After twenty years of teaching, I know I make less money than an engineer fresh out of college. Mike is an engineer. When he was unsure what he wanted to study, he spoke to a family friend, a bachelor who had all sorts of free time and “toys” (a plane, sports car, etc.). Mike decided on a major based on the projected earnings. He doesn’t dislike his job, but he is not always passionate about it. While we chose our selected careers for different reasons, both offer stability and safety. We know what our days look like, when we will be working, what our days will look like, how much we will earn, etc. We have spreadsheets mapping out our retirement goals. We plan vacations based on visiting new baseball stadiums each summer. We selected fulfilling but safe pathways and are forever in awe of people who, like Stephen Kellogg, pursued his passions. So here lies the dilemma as a parent: how much do we support an unrealistic dream? Yes, Michael is a talented player. He’s passionate, hardworking, and blessed with a build that supports hitting dingers. He studies stats and players, genuinely appreciating the art of playing baseball. He joined cross country to get faster, hoping he could progress from leading his team in doubles to leading his team in triples and home runs. At thirteen, he is hitting with the exit velocity of a sixteen-year-old. Do we encourage Michael to take the safe route and focus on business? Or do we encourage him to pursue his dream of being a homerun hitter for the Phillies, knowing the odds are not in his favor? On the ride home from the show and throughout the rest of the evening, Michael continued to digest the words of the “lovesick guy with a guitar.” “Did you hear what he said about the ladder?” “Do you think I can play for a D1 school?” “Do you think I could play for a collegiate team, even for a summer?”
He’s a talented player in a sea of gifted players. And right now, he’s a talented player who will give his all for the chance to make it to the show… while working on a degree in management or marketing. And, yes, Stephen Kellogg does appear to be someone we’d love to invite over to sit around the fire and drink White Claws; he’s also the person who convinced my son not to play it safe. He convinced Michael to pursue his dreams and climb the ladder he wants to climb. While we try to be realistic, we also entertain his conversations regarding selecting a walk-up song. He is completely confident about this, too. (His choice? Butter, by A Tribe Called Quest, a decision that also brings much pride.)
I have always been someone who tries to find the positive in situations. But it was hard to find the silver lining when Michael broke his foot and learned he would be off his foot for eight weeks.
Batting practice in his scooter
Opening Day at Fenway in his boot
“Why would this happen to me? Why am I being punished so long for one stupid decision?” Not having an answer was brutal. Michael has questioned his faith, particularly regarding the church’s positions on homosexuality and divorce. Eight plus weeks of punishment for a split-second decision is a lot to process, especially when that split-second occurs two days before baseball tryouts. Michael has done all the work to recover, mostly without being reminded. He’s done his stretching exercises, practiced pitching and hitting, worn his calf protector, and learned to use the TENS machine. He’s tracked his progress and pain on a graphic organizer I created and shared for him, making more meticulous notes than his orthopedic doctor requested. After she suggested barefoot running to awaken the tendons and muscles that have lay quiet while he was in a cast, he runs up and down our long driveway a few times a day. He wants to improve and is doing the work to get where he needs to be. After tracking his progress for two weeks, he convinced his doctor to let him return to baseball early, with the promise to continue to follow his pain. His coaches put him on first base, where he could (mostly) stay in one place and not have players sliding into him. He preferred outfield but knew he could not chase line drives with his injury and, just happy to be playing, took the base. Little did we know then, but he would find his home. He excels at first base! So as we try to find the positive in this challenging experience, this injury has led Michael to his calling. While we wish he had never broken his foot, his broken foot took him to a place where he shines. He’s learned critical lessons about perseverance and strength. He’s learned the importance of managing frustration. He’s also learned that people will try their best to support people when they see that he needs help. As a result of his hard work, he reached his goal of making an aau team.
Last summer, we spent a week in Vermont. While looking for activities to occupy the time, I discovered the Vermont Lake Monsters, a local collegiate team. I ordered tickets to attend one game during the week, selecting the Thursday game during “Hot Dog Hysteria” night, which offered 25 cent hot dogs. Monday, while exploring downtown Burlington, we passed a young man wearing Lake Monsters’ gear. I nudged Michael, telling him that the young man was probably a player. He was too shy to interrupt the player and didn’t know what to say. Later, we figured out that we passed Patrick Harrington, one of the Monsters’ all-star pitchers. Michael still kicks himself for not at least saying hello. Once we arrived and watched the weather forecast predicting rain Thursday night, we decided to head to Tuesday’s game to ensure we were able to see the team play. When we entered the stadium’s parking lot, Champ, the Lake Monster’s beloved mascot, drove by on the back of a golf cart, waving and rolling his eyes at us. We happened upon a double-header; they were finishing a previously rained-out game. Michael fell in love with everything about the team: the small, intimate stadium, the kind fellow spectators, and, especially, Champ. When we entered the stadium’s parking lot, Champ drove by on the back of a golf cart, waving and rolling his eyes at us. Michael was in love. The rain slowed enough to allow us to attend Hot Dog Hysteria night as well. We sat in our seats directly next to the Monster’s dugout. Michael worked up the courage to talk to some of the players. He joined other fans in some good-natured razzing of the other teams. “What even is a Sea Unicorn?” Most importantly, he watched the players coming together as a team and supporting each other. Michael has only been playing baseball for a year. Despite his size, strength, and determination, there are skills in which he still lacks. He’s working hard to fill his gaps in ability, taking training sessions and summer camps. In these sessions, he’s witnessed some of the ugly sides of competitiveness from other players. Michael left Vermont with a full-blown love of the Lake Monsters. He no longer inquired about visiting Fenway; it was all about the Monsters. A few weeks later, we surprised Michael by taking him to Worchester to see the Lake Monsters play the Bravehearts. We arrived decked out in our Lake Monsters’ gear and sat next to the visitor’s dugout. We cheered so loudly that other spectators in the area asked which player we were related to. This time, Michael had worked up the courage to talk to the players. They shared their experiences with him. We spoke to the relatives sitting in our area about the experience. Collegiate players do not get paid to play; it’s a massive commitment to both the players and their families. The players spend long hours on busses to games hours away, stay with host families, and sometimes pursue opportunities to play on the other side of the country.
Michael’s surprise visit to see the Lake Monsters in Worchester
We became fascinated by these dedicated players, who put in so much effort for the opportunity to play the sport they loved. I was thinking about collegiate baseball as a mom- trying to imagine sending Michael to the other side of the country to live with a random family and travel around playing baseball. Michael is amazed at the idea of spending his entire summer playing baseball with new friends.
Michael representing his favorite team at baseball camp!
Our Lake Monsters made it to the final championship game the same day I had my Achilles surgery. We paid to live-stream the game because traveling was out of the question. We felt like we were their good luck charm and couldn’t abandon them now! Our love of collegiate baseball continued locally. Mike found an opportunity to send Michael to a camp held by our local Futures league, the Newport Gulls. Michael loved the sessions, which were amazingly personalized and well-organized. While he swears his loyalty remains with the Lake Monsters, he wears his Gulls hat almost constantly. Before the fall sessions ended, we took advantage of a deal to purchase three weeks of Gulls’ summer camp with three season passes to the Gulls’ season. Being eleven, Michael wonders what it takes to be a serious ballplayer, examining other players’ bats, cleats, and gloves. He hears about teammates taking private lessons and getting custom-made gloves. As someone who has only been playing for a year, he often feels like an imposter. Watching the Monsters players show up with worn cleats and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches taught Michael that baseball isn’t about having a custom glove or expensive sunglasses. It’s about growing and being part of a team. Collegiate baseball taught Michael the importance of rooting for everyone and that the best players have much more than just a fancy bat. After watching Lake Monsters cheer each other on and complement each other, even when that person is not within earshot. Over the summer, he watched individual players become a team. The Lake Monsters gave Michael a game ball, ensuring that each player signed it before handing it over. They took the time to tell him about their own baseball experiences and what it was like as they grew older. Collegiate baseball players sparked more joy and excitement into Michael than any professional player ever did. I hope the players realize that, to Michael, they are the role models, the ones who took the time to talk about how to become a better hitter and all-around player. Mike and I have commented that this will be the summer of baseball; I cannot wait to see where Michael’s enthusiasm rises to by the end of August!
World's Okayest Runner 