Ball Game

Kent played in his first real tee-ball game last night.

His team – the Hurt’s Superette Little Giants – wore green shirts. (This, by the way, is a minor perk of playing organized rec sports in the south: they still use sponsors with quaint-sounding business names.) Kent got number 3. One of his friends from school wound up with number 5 (the one he wanted, I think), which, for some reason, was printed backwards. He got to bat during the first half of the first inning, and cut an impressive figure striding to the plate: the only boy wearing a glowing pink helmet, brandishing a matching bat, and obviously eager to knock the yellow softball off the tee. (The umpire seemed concerned he might lose a finger while setting the ball, Kent was so avidly poised. I was a little worried myself.)

He hit the ball hard, and down the center of the infield. Like a swarm of bees – the other team was wearing yellow – the fielders chased after the ball, heedless of position. Kent decided to follow them. Instead of heading to first, he charged out toward the pitcher’s “mound” (in reality, a flat, chalky circle).

Even the third baseman from the yellow team knew that wasn’t right. He gave up on the ball and, charitably, began chasing Kent toward first base, mildly urging him on with a hand between his shoulder blades.

Kent got a little confused at this point, probably because so many kids were running around him in a relatively small space, surrounded by a metal fence and ringed with shouting grown-ups. He looked at the boy pushing him in the direction of first, and – I think – decided that the kid was trying to hurt him. (Maybe it was the outstretched arm). Kent screamed and started running directly across (more or less) the infield in the general direction of first base, peeking frantically over his shoulder every few moments to see if he was still being pursued.

He lost his footing somewhere deep in the foul territory of right field, and tumbled head-first onto the grass. He lay prone for a few seconds, and when he got up, it was apparent he was crying. He wasn’t hurt; he was upset that the other kid had caught him.