September 17, 2006 - Sunday
I love Harry's new baseball practices. In fact, I'm pretty sure I like them better than Harry does, although he seems quite happy, too. It's an instructional seires rather than a team thing and the coach is big on parents getting out on the field and helping out throwing, pitching, and hitting tennis balls way into the outfield so the pack of kids creates "mayhem" (as well as try to catch the ball, but that happens very, very infrequently). I'm always right in there, because I just love to do it. Of course, like Harry at that age - actually, I didn't start playing baseball or sports until I was about eight, so I'm hoping I can teach Harry better - I was pretty much afraid of the ball; either that or afraid of looking foolish. Whatever the reason, like Harry, I wasn't very aggressive going after those fly balls. Yet somewhere along the line I did get good, very good in some ways, but it was long after high school and long after it mattered in terms of playing on any school team. I'd like that not to happen to Harry, although it's probably in his genes.


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