Category Archives: Uncategorized

OMG where have I been?

I’ll tell you where I’ve been…wait for it…on the bleachers!  Yes, I know, back in April I endeavored to share with you 100 games in 100 days.  Well, guess what?  When you attend 100 games in 100 days, you’re freaking busy!  Who the hell can blog, hold down a full-time job, and attend 100 sporting events?  Oh, but wait, in that time I also, in my brilliance, got sucked into participating in not ONE but TWO booster club boards.  HAHAHAHAHAHA wtf was I thinking?  Between football fundraisers, baseball budgeting, spirit-wear, fan-wear, team meals – I can hardly find the time to ingest a complete a cocktail much less blog about the oh-so-crazy-high-school-sport level….wait, what?  Yes, both my athletes are now in high school..and wait, what?  Yes, the gettin is good with this many parents, new rules, new coaches, and new crazy so…wait what?  Yeah, where have I been? This is good stuff…

Wow, glad we worked through that!  Hope you’re all still out there because I am RECOMMITTING TO YOU and you better recommit to me!   In other words, and when I say “other” I mean in “their” words, and when I say “their” words you better know who I mean…..I will follow you, will you follow me? All the days and nights (and games) that we know will be, I WILL stay with you, will YOU STAY WITH ME???

 

 

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Careful what you say about my kid...

Careful what you say about my kid…

Oxygen anyone? (my kids LOVE that joke!)

Oxygen anyone? (my kids LOVE that joke!)

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A sad site...

A sad site…

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Feeling the love in Cooperstown NY

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100 Games in 100 Days: Day 6

Day 6: Baseball.  So for High School ball, when we have home games, the parents staff concession stand, score board operation, and announcer role.   (yes, we have announcers – what? no, we just announce the kid who is at bat – what? YES WE HAVE WALK UP MUSIC for each kid – what do you think this is? Bush league??)

We are all housed in what we affectionately call, the “snack shack.”  In years past, I guess I just showed up and would pop in there if asked to help.  Now that some kids have graduated, and others are playing a different summer league, I realize now how much I miss the women who ran that ship like a stinking military assignment.  Yes, yes, last season I would have, should have, had a rich, robust snarky blog about them – how to make the burgers, how to wrap them in foil, where the chocolate is positioned v. the skittles – how to dispense the hot cheese glug on the 6-month old nachos. I mean, these women had it FIGURED OUT.  Who the hell am I to think this is just a day at the ball park? Because I’m telling you this gig requires some serious skills.  And I’m not just talking sales, people, and counting-change-in-your-head skills.  The announcer’s/score booth sits above the snack shack.  In order to run the scoreboard you really need to have completed an advance degree in engineering – and God help the numbskull who misses a strike or posts a run on the opposite team’s total!  You want to see an unruly parent during a close game? Put up a run on the other team’s total and sit back and wait for about 15 minutes while the rumbling turns into mentioning to shouting up at the box. It’s rich I tell you. Rich.  Anyway, here’s my tribute, you know who you are:

Here’s to the gang that manages snacks, they’re bossy and witty and don’t take no crap. If you need some peanuts some seeds or a dew, they are there…there for you.

Thanks to the dads who keep track of the score, but please don’t play country between innings no more.

xo TFTB

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Oh Brother Dad!

Really?  Yes, Really. In the heart of every sports parent lies an outrage over their kid’s entitlement, their prowess, their superiority.  However, many (not most) manage to get a smackdown from REALITY that allows them/(us?) to never, ever, let that nasty ole genie out of the bottle.

Today’s case in point: http://sports.yahoo.com/blogs/highschool-prep-rally/n-j-dad-files-40-million-discrimination-lawsuit-152702734.html Yes, a father is suing because his was kicked off the team (for missing practices) and because coach ran seniors instead of the frosh.  That’ll be $40 mill baby.  Super duper parenting Ervin. Cause now you’ve taught your son:

  1. It’s totes okay for you to expect special treatment regardless of “rules”
  2. You are special. More special than anyone else on the team (or the planet)
  3. Daddy values your hurt feelings at $40 million

Well done Ervin. Good luck at court. I’m sure it’s just another day at the underpaid job for the track coach, just another day…

 

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Spring Training is Underway!

sigh…hard to get in the mood…

A sad site...

A sad site…

Keep positive baseball fans…on this snowy Sunday, think about this quote from Ernie Banks:
“Spring training means flowers, people coming outdoors, sunshine, optimism, and baseball. Spring training is a time to think about being young again.”

Who doesn’t need a little bit of that mindset?

10 Promises for This Baseball Season

1. I will add to this blog regularly! (AND I REALLLLY MEAN IT THIS TIME)

2. I will not be the loudest parent in the bleachers (lol, not out loud…really…)

3. I absolutely will not run around the house like a maniac looking for baseball pants, belt, socks or a hat. You’re on your own boys…. (really)

4. I will not cocktail at games (unless we are at a park that actually serves cocktails…) really? But if someone offers me a red solo cup I will not be rude…cause it would be.

5. I will wear sunblock – which, of course, we won’t need until August. I have a new nanuck-from-the-north parka JUST for spring ball!

6. I will not debate how “that kid” made the team and how/why he is batting ahead of my kid. Well, not if it’s borderline…if it’s painfully obvs that he has no business in that slot…maybe an eyeroll or a sharp elbow to whomever is bleachering next to me.

7. I will not criticize the shortness of the girls’ shorts who come to support the boys. But seriously…is that even comfortable?

8. I will not let my dog shove his head into the cooler that you so lovingly packed with your player’s nutritious snack for between the double-header. I can’t be held responsible for items in your lap, next to you on the bleachers, or an item that is in your hand on the way to your mouth. I just can’t.

9. I will only scream positive encouragement. (I’m cracking myself up right now…)

10. I will soak up every minute that I get to be at a ballpark, watching my son play baseball….R E A L L Y!

PLAY BALL!

 

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REALLY COACH?

What does this scenario remind you of: (note, this is high school…)

– Superstar running back not required to workout at practices. Has backup take routes/reps and he observes.

– Superstar running back not held to same standards for grades, or extra curricular activities such as boozing and bong hitting.

– Running Back #2 never misses a practice. Rarely (ever?) displays a negative attitude.

– RB2 actually delivers in game situations (umm, just last week actually…)

– RB2 approaches coach to express frustration at lack of play time.

– RB2 is shot down, told not V squad material “sent down” to JV.

– Coach claims RB2 is “not about team”

I’ll tell you what it sounds like, it sounds like:

a. Coach is confusing “team” for “me”

b. A tired old movie theme that includes the line “you tryin’ to ruin it for everyone son? Shut your mouth and get back to (fill in the blank) your post, work, the cotton, the field, the hole…”

c. A “test” for our young RB2?

What it doesn’t sound like:

a. A “teaching moment”

b. A program that is allegedly “outstanding”

I  know, football and karma don’t really go hand in hand…but you know – I’m a karma person, and a sports person, okay, and a pissed off mama/auntie bear (no, this isn’t my kid, note to followers…I’m trying reaaaal hard not to blog about my  own kids..but of course, will if it might entertain or bring a tear, but I digress.)

I kind of just thought that coaching at the High School level (this ain’t Texas after all y’all…) had evolved….what’s that you say? Stick to blogging about Youth Sports and quit crying like a big baby?  Fine, but mark my words – that ol’ karma can be a big, bad, bone crushing lineman…or worse…so we’ll be paying attention you big meat head coach…

Why I aughta….

It’s not THEM, it’s Y!

So, I read an interesting item the other day…It caught my attention because its title is “Why men don’t understand women.”  I see you nodding your head – of COURSE I’ll take time out of my day to read that…it screams: “A CHANCE TO CITE SCIENCE TO THE MEN IN OUR LIVES, FURTHER PROVING OUR SUPERIORITY!”   But it actually got me thinking about this information as it relates to kids’ sports – boys’ in particular: the participants/athletes, and well, their coaches.

Nature reports (no, I don’t read Nature, I gleaned this from the “cliffs notes” version provided by The Week magazine, great for cheaters like me – makes you feel totes smarty-pants, highly recommended!) anyway, Nature reports that the recently cracked genetic code of the female X chromosome shows that females are far more genetically  “variable” than scientists realized – and (wait for it….) far more complex than men. Women have all their genetic instructions on two Xs, while men, as you know, have one X and one Y. Y determines maleness, and not much else, so, they are basically products of that one, valuable X. Women, on the other hand, have two Xs that are brimming with active genes and info…yes, I know you’re already there…researcher Huntington Willard of Duke told the L.a. Times that every one of the women they looked at had a different genetic “story” and suggests that “in essence, there is not one human genome, but two: male, and female.”

If you are with me…yes, did you read that last part? It’s true: WE ARE LITERALLY DIFFERENT BEINGS THAN MEN. That might be a different blog, I know, it’s rich – it’s well, almost too tempting to not expand on that. But for the purposes of this blog, let’s focus on the other presumption…men operate with a basic set of data – arguably only half of the data that women have to draw on – however, clearly a good part of that wiring includes an acute ability to maintain, explore, and understand nuances of sports that often, women simply don’t have an inclination, or frankly, ability for.  I would submit (after reading, you know, two paragraphs about genetic code) that much of that complex data in our men is an intricate and complex – constantly active sporting database.  I further submit – it might compare, in the female brain, to our ability to write a memo, participate in a conference call at the same time, yell at the kids while balancing the checkbook, schedule the next 6 months doctor, chiropractic, and Orthodontist appointments during a trip to the post office and back.  There really is no direct comparison in terms of sports knowledge in the female mind (with due respect Erin Andrews and our own Susie Wargin.)  This may explain a lot:

1.  Why my boys know who threw for over 100 yards for the past three NFL seasons, but don’t know what time 5th period gets out.

2. Why men can spend a day golfing, or a weekend in Vegas drafting their fantasy football team, and not once, ever, have a conversation about life, jobs, their families (true conversation: “Bryan, Martha just had a baby…you spent the entire weekend with John 6 months ago and it didn’t come up that she was pregnant??) – and honestly admit that – it just didn’t come up.

3. Fathers of boys count the days until they can coach their kid. Men who are not fathers volunteer to coach. Fathers whose boys have left for college still coach sports.

4. Why, if you ask any/all of the men in your presence anything, anything at all –  during a sporting event – the answer is: “Huh?”*

* NOTE: this result might also be due to findings I read in summary article titled “Why Men Don’t Listen” (you guessed it, my smartie pants cheat sheet “The Week“) – citing a study “verifying that female voices are more complex than male voices, making men’s brains work harder when listening to them.”

‘Nuff said.  Happy Football Sunday!

Fun companion infographic: http://www.infographicsarchive.com/humor/understanding-how-the-male-brain-works-or-doesnt-work/#prettyPhoto/1/

Dear High School Football, I love you

Dear High School Varsity Football, I love you – today at least.

Okay, so, it was a blast – I’ll admit it – sitting at the varsity football game, wedged between the band and the student section. A perfect fall evening with the sun setting over the Colorado foothills…yes, I was secretly hoping for some deplorable antics from parents or a streaking student – maybe I can catch it on video for TFTB…I mean, you, my faithful groundfloor followers – you DESERVE that! But all I can say is I was practically giddy. There’s my kid – dressed for Varsity, the energy, the good/cute as well as the  REALLY bad choices in fan-wear (seriously mom, something in between the beefy Tee and the tight tank next time?…), the lack of booze, the cross-section of parents (so what if I had to move due to over cologned fan, oh he’s just divorced? shocker…) united in a common quest – I mean, what can compare to this slice of life? (surreal, surprising, exhilarating? Where am I?)

Listen – I was not the rah-rah student when I was in HS. Sports were not really that rah-rah – or so it seemed in the early 80’s. I was not a cheerleader, a pom, a flag..I was a sort of athlete – sort of a party girl – but that’s another story…it’s that journey that’s transformed me I guess – there is just something about traveling the road of youth sports – from soccer bunch ball to tee ball to suddenly finding yourself soaking it all up at the High School level. And as much I hate to admit it..the whole gridiron thing, under the lights, it has a vibe that doesn’t compare to an afternoon at the baseball field or evening at the field house. This is where we start our love affair with arguably the most dangerous and violent sport on the planet…c’mon, have a sip of the kool-aid…it’s Friday – I’m sure there’s lights blazing somewhere near you in a few hours – I dare you! Try to hate it, try, just try, not to love it.

But dear football, remember, we are fickle. You hurt my boys?  You know what they say about that thin line between love and hate, the wrath of an angry woman all that?…

GO CHARGERS!

FIGHT.

WIN…

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