Aaron said he wanted to try baseball again this year. There's a new league in our neighborhood so the timing was good. Tryouts were yesterday, not to get on teams but to assess skills so that teams would be evenly staffed.It's a haul to get to the field (~20 minute walk), but nice to see so many familiar faces, whether friends or parents of friends. Many of these parents play catch regularly with their children, and some are quite fanatical about baseball, so almost everyone was better than Aaron, who whiffed on most of the pitches thrown his way during hitting and let more than a few grounders go through his legs during fielding.
We played some catch while we were out there, and he's clearly not yet
comfortable with baseball skills, which is strange for me since I was
baseball-obsessed when I was his age. I tried to strike a balance
between wanting him to get better and wanting to make sure he wanted to
be out there at all. Good that he wanted both to be there and to get
better. In fact, I think he quite likes baseball. Not necessarily the baseball itself but the camaraderie with friends (he knew a lot of the other kids, either from the neighborhood or from school) and with me (it's the one thing he and I do together just the two of us, I guess).
The logistics of practices and games will be tricky for us. But I have a feeling it'll be worth it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go ice my arm: I did some throwing and my shoulder feels like it's on fire.
