Trophy or Prophecy?

Sam’s first trophy. Everyone on Sam’s first t-ball team was presented one by Sam’s first fabulous coaches. Firsts mean a lot around here. When Sam had his last at bat of the season, the coach of the other team told his entire team to take several steps back. I swelled with pride-which was no first around here. Sam reported to me after the game, that the final score of this game was 1000 to 1000! He had the last last at bat, and brought them all in.  I have a feeling there might be a few more moments like these around here…

Sam’s first at bat-Mama’s foul!

I have the next forty or so years to gush about this kid.

But, really it all started last night.

His very first official TEAM sport. He’s been acting like he was invited up to the majors for the last three days.


Coach was great, the other kids were just as funny, eager, and sweet about all of it.

Sam was attentive, willing, focused, polite, gracious and in his body.

Best line-after one of his activities  I yelled out, encouragingly “Good listening Sam, now wait for the Coach.”

He turns around, looks at me sitting in the grass with Marcel, and the other parents and yells back; “Mom are you coaching too?”

Laughter all around.

Insert sound of Mama C’s remote control helicopter parenting crashing gently in the grass behind her.

Jackie Robinson Meet Sammy

Sammy was officially registered for t-ball this evening.

Before we got out of the car to go into the school, Uncle asked Sam who was the first African American to play National League ball, and with minimal prompting he knew. I was so proud of both of them. Marcel was busy screaming that he wanted to register too.

Yes, I was that mom. I did. I asked if he had to play t-ball, or could he just bump right up to little league. I explained that he rode a bike at two, and has been hitting hard ball fast pitches since he was four… People put their pens down to listen, two coaches came in a few inches closer.

I felt the power. Is this woman talking trash? Or is that not so little boy playing with his pipe cleaner and bead necklace  the next Sammy Sossa- they wondered-as Sammy sized up the competition on one mother’s lap.

If he is so advanced, or strong that having him on the t-ball team might endanger the safety of other players he’ll be moved up, the soft brown eyed man reassured me. Sam disappeared around the corner with Uncle and Marcel as I wrote out the check.

Thank you Jackie. Because of you I will get to be that proud, exuberant parent. But more importantly, because of you he gets to be that good.