I confess I fell asleep before the end of Saturday-early Sunday's Phillies game. I got a recap from my family who stuck with it to the end, and we all agree it was best I was gone. I would not have handled the tension well.
I love baseball, but wild pitches, stolen bases and tense moments on the mound give me fits. I would have put a pillow over my head when B.J. Upton stole his third base, and talked back to the TV when Carlos Ruiz missed the throw.
Reading the coverage on Sunday and Charlie Manuel's quotes about sticking with Ruiz took me back to a Little League Mom moment.
My younger son Scott was about 11 and pitching in a league championship game. He didn't have a killer arm (who does at that age?) but the coach liked him on the mound because he was steady and not emotional. He got the ball in there, so that kids could hit fly balls and grounders that led to outs. In this particular championship game, he gave up a home run to the best hitter in the league and our team's lead was cut to one run. That was when I left the field to chauffer my daughter to a piano lesson,leaving my husband and older son there to pick up the pieces of victory or heartbreak.
When I came back, the game was ending, and Scott was getting the game ball and high fives from the other kids. As it turned out, after giving up the home run, the coach talked to him and asked him if he wanted to stay out there and get the next guy out. He said he did; he got the chance. Our team won 5-4.
That coach told us later Scott deserved the game ball that day not because he was the star of the game or the best hitter, but because he hung in there. He had the courage to stay with it after a pitch that could have cost his team the championship -- but it didn't. That's baseball, and it's why I never mind missing some of the best action. I just like to know we won the game.