Let Your Bat Talk For You

My son is thirteen years old and in seventh grade. Seventh grade was by far the hardest school year for me. I did not adjust to Junior High, I could not focus, and honestly I barely got by. Luckily I did a lot better after but it was a year I just had a hard time with.

My son is the opposite. He goes to a 6-12 grade school. He gets straight A’s. He has a lot of friends.

And baseball is his life.

When my son was four we put him into Tee Ball. He was the smallest kid on the team. This was something that was consistent every year. But my son also had a fast swing. Much faster than other kids. It was noticeable. But he did not hit the ball far. But he made contact.

I think this is where he fell in love with baseball. Every year we would sign up for little league and every year he would play. He was a benchwarmer. He would get his one at bat and get a hit. I accepted it for the majority of little league. He was in the outfield and just kind of knew the ball would not be hit to him.

I worked a lot at that time. I did not help coach the team or really get involved. Little League teams are coaches kids and their buddies playing. I learned that quick. And that was okay. But my son wanted to get better. He wanted to get bigger.

So before the pandemic my son was on a Little League team where the coach was an asshole. I need to be clear, I will not disrespect any coach. Being a volunteer coach and dealing with parents and kids is hard enough at that level, especially when half the kids do not want to play. But when a coach screams at my son that he cannot hit and does not play him in games where the rules clearly say he needs at least one at bat, I have an issue. So that was the last year we played in that little league. It does absolutely no good to complain. None. You become “that parent”. You become the “keep your eye on the ball and lift your elbow and finish your swing” parent where you feel that little Johnny should already have a LSU scholarship and have ten MLB teams scouting you. But what was hard about this was while my son was undersized, he was extremely good. He had skills other kids did not have and it was evident even at a young age. So I promised my son we would figure out a way to keep playing.

I refuse to ever stand in the way of my kid’s passions. My passion was drama. So my dad drove me to every single acting lesson and audition and rehearsal. And when I asked him over and over again if I was good and I could make it, he was always supportive. Always. But I did not pursue it. My life is a “what if”.

So around ten years old I took my son to his first private hitting lesson. The coach was brutally honest. He said my son had more talent than most at his age. But he was small, and he did not adjust to the pitch well. But those are things he can work on.

And so he did. We worked on this for a year. When he was not at a lesson, I would throw corn to my son where he tried to hit it with a broomstick. We went to cages to hit. He would practice his balance on a two by four while swinging…

Then the pandemic hit.

The pandemic was hard for everyone. I have mentioned numerous times that I lost my company. I started over. We has a lot of issues going on. But one of those was not virtual school. For some reason both of my kids thrived on it. And my son did something else. He grew. A lot. He grew over a foot and gained about 60 pounds of muscle. And so this small kid is now big.

We went to a new baseball trainer. One that was also a coach of the school team. My son was twelve at the time. He worked with him on his swing. And when you see a fast swing with power, it is something else. He would build my son’s confidence while keeping him humble. And my son was finally on the school team. He was twelve on a team that had much older kids. He did not play much. But when he did, he would get on base.

Now that you have the background, let me get to the meat of this Substack. My son is now thirteen. He is on the school team. The coach he trains with is no longer coaching at his school. And there is once again no JV team. Just one team.

The team has eighteen kids. My son is by far the youngest. Everyone else is technically in high school. But my son can play. He works hard. And he rarely plays.

It is hard to explain to a kid who knows more about baseball than anyone I know except my brother. My son studies swings and pitches and can tell you if he can hit off a pitcher with one pitch. He can adjust to pitchers now. His favorite player is some kid who was a fourth round pick in 2021 who no one has heard of but will end up being one of the best. He can tell you what bat someone is swinging with by the sound. And I tell him, eventually you will get a chance to hit. Just let the bat do the talking.

And after a year of my son taking lessons from his trainer, I finally asked him if he was good for his age. He looked at me like I am asking a dumb question and I do not sit and watch every lesson. So for the first time in a long time, I understood.

So a week ago we played a subpar team. Okay, we played a horrifically bad team. We started everyone on the bench just to make it competitive. But my son did not start. So I was confused and bummed but whatever. He finally got to play. He had two at bats. And at the time, he got two singles. I was pumped. He was happy but was real critical of them. And then the next game came…he was on the bench.

So funny thing about Gamechanger. If you are a parent who has ever looked at your kids stats on Gamechanger, you know EXACTLY what I am about to say. He did not get two hits. He got two “reached on errors”. It does no good to argue with anyone who keeps stats. In fact, it does not good to argue period.

So yesterday we had an away game at the stadium that Jackie Robinson played minor league baseball at. We play there once a year. I was just hoping he would have a chance to play.

So while I am sitting in the stands my son nods his head. He never has before. I look at the roster and there he is. Designated Hitter. Eighth in the lineup.

I was just thrilled. And then he goes up to bad. Bam. A double. A legit true no doubt double. He brings home a run.

Then he goes up again. He hits the ball close to the wall. Another double.

He now leads the team in doubles lol.

After the game he is just happy. He is happy that I am happy. And I told him he might not start again. There are eighteen kids on this team, most four years older than him. He might have to watch from the bench for a while and pay his dues.

But for someone who truly has been slighted for so many years, It was nice to finally see my son letting his bat do the talking.

And his bat clearly said I am a damn good baseball player.

Thank you so much for reading. More posts will be personal like this along with some other items thrown in. Please consider a paid subscription to be able to read them all. And if you like what you see and want to support my journey, you can buy me a coffee here