YaYa's Baseball Season

This summer we signed YaYa up for baseball through the Milwaukee Rec Division. It took place every Saturday morning for a few hours, smacking headfirst into work schedules, so a variety of folks helped us make sure she made it to each game: my Dad, Tre, and my mother-in-law. Thanks to them all.



The pictures you see here were taken throughout the summer, and I can't lay claim to remembering what game goes with what shot. She hit well in every game I attended, and most (if not all) the games I missed. As a for instance, she went 2 for 3 with a double and 2 RBI's in the first game of the season, and followed it up with a 1 for 4 game with another double and a RBI. That meant she entered the third week of the season with a .429 batting average, two doubles, and three runs batted in.

And yet, after that second game, she cried. It takes a while to get used to the idea that success in baseball is measured not by eliminating failure, but by accepting it as a result seven times out of ten.







(this next one is from a practice)





















YaYa often had a cheering section







but I will admit to one slight episode of parental rage. During the first practice this fat kid started picking on YaYa, covering up his own insecurity by berating her because of her gender. "Why bother swinging, you're a girl. What are you doing here anyway?" etc. On and on for the whole first hour.

Well screw that. I don't know why the coaches or his Dad didn't shut him up, but YaYa was getting visibly upset. I barked out her name and motioned her over.

"Is that kid bothering you?" I said. She nodded.

"Forget him. Do you understand me? [redacted] him. He's nothing. Girls can play baseball just as well as boys, especially one of my girls. The next time he opens his [bleep] mouth I want you to think about how fat he is, and how much he'll huff and puff just trying to run the bases. Ugh, look at him, he's already sweating through his shirt! Just think of that and ask yourself if that's the kind of yahoo you need to worry about. You understand?"

Don't mess with my kid.

She grinned. And damn if she didn't get back on the field and improve dramatically. I think she actually giggled in the boy's direction after a few comments, and after awhile the kid moved on to easier prey.

At the end of the season, on the day of Ginger's second birthday party, everyone was awarded a medal for their participation.





Great season YaYa!