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
Tales From The Bleachers 