Oh God, That's MY Kid About to Take the Mound

People ask my husband and I all the time “So, do your boys pitch?” or “Is your son a pitcher?” Our answer is always the same for all three of our boys: “Not really.”  Honestly, I’ve never thought of any of my boys as “Sunday” pitchers (meaning, they get put on the mound to pitch for a semifinal or championship game).  Our oldest throws really hard but has his moments of being a “wild thing.” Our middle boy is the type of kid who throws strikes (for the most part), is consistent, but doesn’t really throw that hard.  Same can be said about our youngest.

But I guess the reality is that yes, they all pitch at some point. And when I see any of them leave the dugout to go warm up with a teammate in the bullpen, my first reaction is to close my eyes and cringe. “Oh God,” I think to myself, “That’s MY kid about to take the mound.”

It seems to be the reaction of so many moms (and dads) when they see what’s happening…their kid is about to be the determining factor in turning the game around, or at least that is the hope.  It’s unnerving.

If it goes bad, and they can’t get in a good rhythm, and ball after ball is thrown, somehow, we as the parent (the one not in the game, the spectator on the other side of the fence) feels somewhat responsible for what is going on (or at least I do). You want them to battle, to make great plays, to get us “out of the inning,” to strike kids out.  You feel their frustration when they get flustered by a run scored, or a stolen base or a walk, and wish to God you could help…but you can’t. 

If it goes good out there, and they are in a zone, throwing gas, striking kids out, fielding ground balls, then you just keep praying that it continues.  And that they don’t get clobbered in the face with a line drive. 

Yes, having ANY of my own children on the bump makes my heart race.  But things usually work out.  And when they don’t and coach has to call time, walk to the mound, put his hand out for the ball, and my baby trudges back to the dugout, I usually have a sigh of relief.  And I think of all the time I hopefully have before it all happens again.  And when each of them “take the mound” for the last time, I probably won’t know it’s their last time.  And I will miss the intensity of it, I’m sure.  Just not quite today.